A very big thank you to all of the readers who have taken the time to send kind messages for the story. I very much appreciate it. Please send any feedback, complaints, and correspondence to breakingthroughstory@gmail.com.
The usual disclaimers apply. This is fiction.
Please donate to Nifty. http://donate.nifty.org/donate.html.
Chapter 18
"Blue. No, black. I'm going to wear black if we go," Chris said.
"There's no 'if,'" Armie said. He was swiping in-between two photos on his phone. His stylist had sent them over, just in case.
"Neither of us is nominated. Neither of us was even asked to present. Those invitations were just because you're very famous and I'm famous by association," Chris said, stretching his arms over his head. He settled against the headboard, wondering how many people turned down a chance to go the Oscars. Probably not that many--and he'd done it more times than he could remember. "And you're very, very not ready," he added, his eyes scanning Armie's shaggy hair and untrimmed beard.
"That's easy to take care of," Armie said. "Did we even RSVP?"
"No, we definitely didn't. We slept through the nominations," Chris said. "Awards season wasn't exactly great to us."
"You got nominated," Armie interjected.
"Yeah, they love me in England," Chris said, chuckling. "That red-eye flight was a nightmare. London is a nightmare."
"Yeah, I don't get that," Armie said as he tapped out a text message.
"It's a long story," Chris said. "I don't want to get into it."
"We have to go," Armie said, finally looking over at Chris, who had his eyes focused on the blue skies outside of their bedroom window. "Why are we even talking about it?"
"Because I like being difficult," Chris said. "But we really didn't RSVP. It might be too late."
"Debbie told them we'd go," Armie said, the relief in his voice evident as he looked at his phone. He rubbed at his chin and cheeks. "I guess it's time to clean this all up."
"I only have a black tuxedo," Chris said. "So unless your girl has a spare, I'm wearing the tux I always wear. Plus, if you're there, nobody is looking at me."
"She will pull stuff for you. She loves you."
"Yeah, she loves when I tell you to stand still during your fittings."
Armie walked over to the bed and kissed the top of Chris' head. "You're a jerk sometimes. But you've got some perks."
"Like how I work for free?" Chris said. He'd already started working on adapting the short story. After they'd jetted back from New York, Armie managed to get some actual face time with HBO and the network said that it was interested, but wouldn't commit to anything until he had a more developed production schedule and a working script. It was a reality check for Armie, who sincerely thought that his name would be all it took to get the project rolling.
"That's one of them," Armie said. He moved onto the bed and kissed Chris' lips. "Enjoy the beard while you can. It can't stay like this."
Chris brought both of his hands up to feel Armie's cheeks and jaw as their lips and tongues moved together. "Good thing it grows back fast," he said, his voice already breathy.
"Book party Thursday. Oscars Sunday," Armie whispered.
"We're skipping everything in-between," Chris said. "It would be in poor taste to eat the free food when we're not up for anything."
"Stop talking," Armie said, reaching up under Chris' T-shirt.
Chris latched onto Armie's neck, feeling his biceps and shoulders as Armie moved their bodies down onto the bed. Their bodies knew what to do, with Chris' legs wrapping around Armie's waist and Armie's hand gripping the hem of Chris' T-shirt to pull it off in one easy motion. Chris arched his back when Armie's shirt joined his on the floor, their chests pressing together, the scratchy feel of hair against Chris' smooth skin sending a shiver through both of their bodies.
Armie brought their lips together again, his tongue sliding between Chris' lips. He felt Chris' hands roaming his back. Armie hooked his thumb into Chris' jeans, feeling him smile into their kiss as he undid the buttons and zipper. It didn't take any effort at all to get them both naked, the process so well rehearsed that they could do it with eyes shut and lips still roaming necks and shoulders, catching each other between soft nips at Armie's collarbones and lingering kisses and bites at Chris' throat. Chris didn't feel Armie reach for the lube, but he gasped when he felt the cool, slick fingers slide into him. Armie chuckled, scissoring his fingers inside Chris as he moved down and licked at his balls.
"Oh god," Chris yelped out, his hand coming up to cover his mouth. His breaths were long and heavy, his toes curling as Armie's tongue traced up and down his cock, his fingers tapping and pressing at his prostate.
Another finger from Armie pulled whimpers from Chris' throat, the dull ache of stretching was punctuated with pain, but his legs spread apart even more and he could feel drops of pre-cum slipping from his slit. Armie stroked Chris' cock, his tongue moving down past Chris' balls, drawn up tight against his cock, and joined his fingers below. Tongue and fingers working in tandem, Armie had Chris groaning and bucking up off the bed.
Armie's hand slid to Chris' abs and steadied him, pushing down to keep him still as his tongue darted in and out. His fingers circled around Chris' hole, turned inside him and pushed through the ring over and over.
"Fuck me," Chris said, half a gasp and half a demand. He reached for Armie's hand, the only thing he could reach, and did his best to pull Armie up. He groaned, the sound coming from deep in his chest, as Armie finger fucked him faster, the lurid sound of lube and skin joining Chris' groans.
"Armie," Chris groaned out, his toes curling in anticipation as he felt Armie relent, felt Armie's hand on one side of his head and the weight shifting on the mattress. He knew it was coming, knew that stretch and burn that came with Armie's cock sliding into him. It was familiar now, welcome every single time, but it always pushed the air from his lungs to feel how deep it went, how stretched he felt and how full his body seemed when Armie bottomed out. When Armie's other hand landed on the other side of his head joined the feel of Armie's pubes rasping on his hole, Chris finally opened his eyes to meet the bright blue of Armie's. He leaned up to kiss him, their tongues sliding against each other again, Armie's hips rolling slowly, working his cock deep inside Chris' chute. "God, Armie. God god," Chris' voice trailed off as he worked his ass around Armie's dick.
Armie sucked and licked at Chris' shoulder as his hips moved faster. Chris' legs around his waist urged him to go faster, deeper. Chris clutched at Armie's neck, grunting as his body was rocked with electricity jumping up his spine, Armie's cock raking over his prostate with every thrust.
Sweat-slick skin under his fingers, Chris struggled to hold on, his eyes shut tight as he gripped at the back of Armie's head, hair between his fingertips as he whimpered, no longer trying to hold the sounds in. Armie flipped both of them over and Chris grunted even louder as he settled down on Armie's cock, pushing it that much deeper. He put his hands down on the mattress, the same way Armie had just done and he worked his hips, pumping up and down as he watched Armie's face, his eyes rolling back and his teeth bared as he bit his lower lip. Chris shivered at the touch of Armie's hands, which were grazing his sides one moment and running over his chest the next, only to jump down to stroke his bouncing cock another, sending shocks through Chris' body.
Chris leaned down to kiss Armie, grinding his ass down, burying Armie down to the hilt and clamping down around him. His lips moved to Armie's chest and collarbones, sucking and kissing as Armie's groans fell from his mouth. His hands clamped down on Chris' waist and he did his best to thrust up, his body needing the motions along with the tight heat of Chris' hole. Their damp skin smacked together and Chris nuzzled his face against the coarse hair on Armie's chest, groaning as he rode his cock. Sliding up and down, Chris leaned back, putting the weight on his hands behind him as he rocked, his leaking cock leaving pearls of pre-cum across Armie's abs. Armie's hand closed around it, stroking steadily as Chris moved.
"You'll make me cum," Chris groaned, pumping into Armie's fist as he fucked himself on his dick.
"Cum," Armie said through half-open eyes. "Cum and don't fucking stop."
Groaning, Chris slammed himself down a few more times, jamming Armie's cock against his spot. He came all over Armie's stomach, whimpering as the orgasm unfurled in his balls and resonated through his whole body. Armie stroked him as he came and Chris fell forward, Armie catching him by the shoulder and turning them over again. Armie pulled Chris to the edge of the bed and held his legs up. Standing over him, Armie pushed back into Chris' pulsing hole, drilling in fast and deep, knowing that Chris post-orgasm tingles would be cut through with the searing stretch.
Chris' hand shot up to Armie's chest, trying to steady himself, but the force and speed of his hips didn't relent. Armie slammed forward, rocking both of them together, pulling out and shoving in again. Hard and fast, he barreled towards an orgasm of his own, his cock spilling deep inside of Chris' ass. Armie was damp all over, he could feel it. His skin felt hot and he was sure that he was red from the tops of his ears to the tips of his toes. He settled down onto Chris, their lips coming together in another lazy kiss. Chris buried his face in Armie's neck, sighing as the stars faded from his eyelids and the beats of Armie's heart slowed down. Chris stroked Armie's back slowly, enjoying the weight on top of him. Armie sighed and reached for Chris' hand, tangling their fingers together as he let his eyes close.
Chris sat at the dining room table, surrounded by boxes. Armed with a dozen sharpies, he set out to sign an entire shipment of books, the signature in each copy getting messier and messier as he signed. Bookplates--glorified stickers, really--used to suffice, but some bookstores were requesting actual books this time around. Armie had helped him crack open the first few boxes, but watching Chris only entertained him for a few minutes. He had his stylist coming over, anyway, so he excused himself to take care of that upstairs.
Thankfully for Chris, his signature had developed into something more akin to a squiggly line than anything legible. When he'd gone by Gyllenhaal, he made sure to include every single letter and ensure that each and ever signature bore the details that came along with what he considered a very distinctive name. Now that he'd gone back to his own name, that pickiness seemed to fade. Most of the signatures were nothing more than a "C" and a few wiggles trailing off to an "S." Two boxes down, 72 books altogether, and a few more boxes to go before a courier picked it all up the next day.
The sound of Armie's voice booming through the house broke Chris out of his monotonous reverie. Setting his permanent marker down, he made his way upstairs to find a few racks of clothes set up in the bedroom and Ilaria, Armie's stylist, sitting on the floor, pinning his pants.
"Do you like this one?" Armie asked, standing up straighter and flashing a gleaming smile.
"Yeah, you look good," Chris said, leaning against the doorframe.
Ilaria looked up at him motioned towards the rack, "The last one's yours."
"Thanks," Chris said. "I appreciate it."
"There's a blue one," Armie said, "and a velvet one."
"Can I get you some water?" Chris asked Ilaria, who was doing her best to keep Armie from fidgeting.
"I'm okay," she said, laser-focused now that Armie was standing still. From where Chris stood, Armie looked even taller than normal, his shoulders even broader. It was almost breathtaking, especially with the golden light beaming in from the windows. Chris unzipped the garment bag and peeked inside. "It's pretty bold," Ilaria added, not taking her eyes from the hem of Armie's pants.
"It's white," Chris said, his eyebrow raised.
"Cream," Ilaria corrected. "Like something Cary Grant would wear. Or Daniel Craig."
"It'll need some tailoring, I'll be right there," Ilaria said.
"Let me put on the velvet jacket so Chris can see it," Armie said. "You can do him while I change."
"I think black over blue," Chris said. He slid his arms into the jacket and buttoned it. Straightening up, he tried to stay as still as possible while Ilaria walked around him, inspecting everything. "Let me get some shoes," Chris added, forgetting that he'd need his pants hemmed, too.
"Not the velvet," Chris heard Ilaria say as he retrieved a pair of black dress shoes from the walk-in closet. He changed into the accompanying black tuxedo pants as Armie slid back into the jacket he'd been wearing earlier.
"You look amazing," Armie said when Chris was fully dressed. He felt his cheeks flush at the compliment. Unlike Armie, who had his clothes loaned to him, Chris would have to actually purchase his tuxedo. Designers weren't exactly throwing free clothes at writers.
"So good," Ilaria said, stepping back to stand beside Armie and take in the head-to-toe look. "You look amazing."
"Perfect. Thanks for not giving me options," Chris said as he started to undo the button. It amazed him to know that Armie's styling sessions could stretch for hours for something like a press tour. For an awards show, it was a little quicker, but Chris had never sat around for an entire appointment. "White shirt, black bow tie?" Chris asked.
"You know how it goes," Ilaria said, smoothing Chris' shoulders and taking one last look. Satisfied, she gave his shoulder a squeeze and turned her attention back to Armie. Chris walked over to him and gave him a quick kiss, feeling his bicep through his jacket.
"I'll be downstairs," Chris said. "You look very good."
"I'm almost done," Armie said. "I'll be down in a few minutes."
"Quickest session, ever," Ilaria noted. "You managed to keep him from horsing around the entire time."
"Thanks again," Chris added. He took one last look at Armie and went back to the dining room. He sat down and took a closer look at the book's cover. It was simple, with a white background and the title straight across in a red rectangle: "American Made." Below that, there was his name. For the first time in a long time, it didn't include the word "Gyllenhaal." It was hard to take in. Reaching for his phone, he snapped a picture and sent it over to Jake. The advanced copy that he'd gotten had a placeholder design, not the completed version. This was the first time he'd see the real thing. He flipped the book open to the inside flap, too, sending a second photo that showed his brand-new author photo. It was, for once, a genuine smile. Ramona had taken the photo on her cell phone while they were at the observatory. Chris made sure that she got credit for it, her name in tiny text right under the image, which showcased plenty of the L.A. skyline behind his toothy smile. She'd love it, even if Maggie and Peter didn't let her read the book just yet.
'Overnighting you a copy. What do you want it to say inside?' Chris sent along with the photo.
A few seconds later, Jake's message came through: 'Whatever you want. Don't put me on the spot.'
It was a lot of pressure, Chris realized after reading what Jake had sent. He intended it to be half a joke, but even an award-winning writer couldn't convey levity via text message. "Can I get one?" Chris heard over his shoulder. The voice startled him, but was only Ilaria, with two garment bags over her arm.
"Of course," Chris said, composing himself. "Do you want a signed one?"
"Obviously," she said, smiling. "Did I scare you? You look like a kid who just got caught doing something he shouldn't."
"No, I'm just jumpy," Chris said, reaching for one of the signed books. "Is Armie going to pick everything up tomorrow?"
"I'll send it over with my assistant. Wouldn't want to bug you guys," Ilaria said as she opened it to admire Chris' signature. "Everything should be good to go. Thanks for the book."
Armie was behind her, his arms laden with all of the options they'd passed on. "The rolling rack is already by the door," he said. "Is your car unlocked?"
She reached into her bag and pushed the button on her key fob. The three of them heard a faint beep coming from outside. "It is now."
"Do you need any help?" Chris offered.
"Don't worry about it," Ilaria said. "Thanks again, I'm sure you guys will look great. My job here is done. Done until Monday, when I need to get these back."
"We're actually keeping these," Armie said. "Just in case. Charge it all to WME."
"Then I won't see you Monday," Ilaria said with one eyebrow raised.
"You can charge it to Armie's card, not WME," Chris said, rolling his eyes. "The last thing you need to be doing is charging clothes to your manager."
"Got it," Ilaria answered. "Have a good night, guys."
Armie helped her load up her car as Chris sent his editor a message explaining why a few books would be missing. He figured he'd keep a few at the house in case anyone wanted a copy. That may be presumptuous, he thought, but it was better to be safe. There was no telling if the UPS deliveryman would want to know what all the fuss was about.
"I was joking," Armie said when he got back inside. Chris was back at signing and Armie noticed his signature was clear again. Armie sat down next to him and helped prep, opening each copy to the title page and sliding it over to Chris, who was ready with his Sharpie.
"You were joking about a lot of things. Plus, I forgot to ask what shoes to wear," Chris said, leaning back in his chair.
"I'll text her later," Armie said. "Is it okay if I read this? Is it too personal?"
"You can read it," Chris said. "It's not about any real people. And you've already read most of it."
"Are you sure it's not about real people? Didn't you tell me that all fiction is a thinly veiled autobiography?"
"Did I say that?"
"Maybe I heard it somewhere," Armie said, grinning. He reached over and ran his fingertips over Chris' knuckles. "Tell me that this movie isn't total shit," Armie said, his voice quiet. "It's hard. Every step is so fucking hard."
"You shouldn't even think about that until I finish the script," Chris said. "I'm doing my best to make sure that it's not shitty."
"Yeah, but do you think anyone cares about this story?"
"That's a risk I take every time I write," Chris admitted. He grabbed onto Armie's hand, tangling their fingers together. "If all these people are ready to support you, you've got nothing to freak out about."
"There's actually a lot of pushback," Armie said. "It started right after we got the rights to the story."
"Don't pay attention to that. Make your movie."
"It might be a miniseries."
"Whatever it is, nothing should stop you from doing it," Chris said.
"You going to finish signing all of these?" Armie asked, letting out a sigh as he looked at the boxes at their feet.
"I have to," Chris said. "Someone's coming to pick them up tomorrow."
"Should I help you or distract you?"
Chris shrugged, leaning over to give Armie a kiss. "I don't mind distractions right now." Armie's hands came up to rest on Chris' shoulders. With a little push, Chris was down on his knees and Armie sighed, his head rolling back and just about everything in his overactive mind drifting away.
The next few days were a blur for the two of them. Armie was calling just about everyone he could to line up commitments for his project, Chris had radio interviews and phone calls to promote his book and through it all, they were both getting prepped for the Academy Awards. Haircuts, final fittings, sending apology emails to the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences to say that they wouldn't be attending any of the events before the big night--Armie and Chris seemed to be on their laptops and phones more than they were actually speaking to one another.
"Don't move," Chris said, his hand resting on Armie's bare chest as he inspected his throat. "I don't want to cut you."
Armie stood still, eyes focused up on the bathroom ceiling. Chris was cleaning up the edges of his beard with a straight razor, carefully working to ensure a clear delineation between Armie's chest hair and his beard.
"I'm going to take it up higher," Chris said as he admired his handiwork. He reached around Armie and rinsed the blade in the sink before smoothing more lather over his neck. "Almost done."
Silently, Armie waited, nothing but the sound of their even breathing and the soft scratch of the blade against his beard filling the brightly lit bathroom. Chris worked around the edges, cleaning up everything along the jaw to make things even before took a step backward to check that everything looked symmetrical. "All done."
"Will it look thoughtfully disheveled on Sunday?"
"That's the plan," Chris said as he wiped at Armie's neck with a towel. He ran his fingers over Armie's skin, feeling the clean line and the freshly trimmed hair. He folded the razor and set it down, watching as Armie checked himself in the bathroom mirror. He splashed on some aftershave and leaned against the counter, facing Chris.
"When do the reviews come out?"
"Tomorrow," Chris said. "Penguin wanted to embargo everything until tomorrow. Everyone who preordered the book gets it Thursday. And then at all the Oscar parties, people can discuss how I look and how my book sucks when they're done wondering why I'm even there."
"I don't think most people are going to read all of it before Sunday. It's not short."
"It's not long, either," Chris said. He was optimistic about it. David, his editor, seemed excited about the book. There was enough buzz surrounding it that most people were thinking about it and thanks to some podcast ads, NPR guest segments, and some very short write-ups in "Vanity Fair" and the "New York Times" Magazine, he was in the press enough that people knew that a new book was about to arrive, but not so much that it felt oversaturated. And since Armie didn't have anything going on, he wouldn't be associated with it at all. Chris hadn't prepared himself for some of the harsher criticism when it came to his last book and its subsequent film, but going through a separation and divorce had a way of pushing everything else into the background.
"Are your parents wondering why my book party is at the beach and not at a hotel?"
"They stopped asking questions about your brand of fun," Armie said. "I'm always saying that things are more laid-back out here. You think they'd know that by now. The rest of the world isn't Dallas. My dad couldn't care less."
"Are they all coming?"
"Of course they are. My whole family is."
Chris walked out to the bedroom as sat down in the armchair, mentally checking off everyone that would be there. A few friends, some group from the Penguin office, and some people from past projects were already committed. He was relieved to have the whole event coming together, but it was one more reminder that he was a recluse when it came down to it. He'd been happy to live in this fish tank of a house all by himself and even resigned himself to that reality, which was evident in the fact that he and Armie weren't actually equipped to have overnight guests. If Armie hadn't come into the picture and Jake had told him that there was some possibility of getting back together, he was almost positive that he'd be run back. But Armie was in his life now and Jake wasn't. Things had a way of working out.
Still shirtless, Armie sat down on the bed and tried to figure out what Chris was looking at outside the windows. "Why didn't you dedicate this book to anyone?" Armie asked as he rubbed Chris' shoulder.
"I did. I just didn't print it in there."
"What do you mean?" Armie didn't expect to have a book dedicated to him, but he knew that all of Chris' books--save his very first novel--were dedicated to Jake. Even the last one, which was definitely a fictional account of their relationship falling apart, had simply read, 'For Jake.' The new book had nothing at all.
"I wrote it for myself," Chris said, meeting Armie's eyes. "But you can't put that in a book. You look like a psycho. But I wrote it for me. I wanted to try something new, to just have fun and see what happened."
"Wow," Armie said, leaning back. "You didn't tell me that when you were writing it."
"It wasn't what I set out to do, It happened, though, and I'm excited about it."
"You deserve to be excited," Armie said. "It's really good. It's something you can definitely be proud of."
"I don't even care what the reviews say. I always say that, but this time, I really mean it. That's more for David's sake than mine. I can't do anything after it's already out there."
Chris felt Armie's lips on his own, he let his eyes close and he reached up to feel Armie's cheek. For the first time in a very long time, he was content.
"Should we go for a walk before it gets too dark?" Armie asked.
"Not if you have to put a shirt on."
"I have to put a shirt on, but we should get some air," Armie said, rubbing at Chris' shoulder. "I don't think you've left the house since sunrise."
A few minutes later, they were both walking hand in hand along the canals. "This is what real air smells like? I remember it differently." Chris asked, taking a deep breath. Armie let out a soft laugh, but kept his eyes on the horizon, where the sun was painting the sky in searing oranges and deep gold. He turned to look at Chris. Illuminated by the sunset and practically beaming with happiness, it was something to see. With their lives so busy, Armie couldn't remember the last time they were together without something distracting.
Armie hadn't experienced the whole process of publishing before. He imagined it being different, but now that he'd seen how many revisions it took Chris to finish his book and what it took him to actually write it, he expected more fanfare. Chris was almost Zen in his approach to the release, something that he assured Armie was not normal. He didn't know if it was maturity or Chris finally getting used to the entire circus of a process. With something new to work on right away, he wasn't sure if some sort of creative burnout wouldn't be on the schedule, too.
They had a set course up and down the canals, crossing the same bridges and peeking into the same houses during the eight-block trek. There was always the lingering look into Sebastian's house, patting the same eager golden retriever on the head as they walked past its house and the usual tourists looking for the perfect selfie. Sometimes, they'd head to the actual beach, adding another block or so, but tonight, Armie felt like it would be business as usual. No complaints there. Armie was happy to stretch his legs, even just for a little bit.
"Do you ever miss Elizabeth?" Chris asked suddenly. Armie felt his breath stall. He made it a point never to bring Jake up in conversation and had been successful on that front for almost the entire time they'd been together. Chris had occasionally asked about his Armie's previous situation, but it was never this direct.
He didn't answer right away. They took a few more steps and Armie felt Chris' grip tighten on his hand. "No, actually. I don't think about her that much at all," Armie said after digging through his recent memory. "Is this for another book?"
"I've never met her. Did you know that?"
"Let's keep it that way. I really don't think any good would come from that." Armie felt Chris lock their arms together as the wind kicked up off the ocean. He waited for Chris to bring up Jake. There was nowhere else this could go.
"I should have put a sweatshirt on," Chris said. They took a few more steps together before he kept going: "You are very good when we have to be around my ex. I don't think I could do the same if I was put in your position."
There it was. "Nobody is keeping score," Armie said. "It's different since we see Jake at things we go to."
"Like the Oscars."
"Like the Oscars," Armie repeated slowly. The thought hadn't escaped him. Every time he had a question about Jake, he held his tongue. By now, he'd lost count of the times he almost slipped, but he always managed to keep it in for the entire time he and Chris had been together. In the rare instance that Chris ever spoke of Jake, it wasn't ever deep enough to garner anything. It was like they'd both started a brand-new phase of their lives together. It was good in some ways, but like Chris had said, Armie had to be around Jake once in a while.
"I know it can't be easy for you," Chris said.
"It's not awful," Armie interrupted. "He's respectful of everything."
Halfway across the last bridge on their neighborhood circuit, Chris leaned against the railing. They were almost home. Chris could actually see the house from where they'd stopped. Armie leaned into him, arms on either side of Chris'. Their chests almost touched. "I'm going to assume this conversation is leading somewhere," Armie said. "Just let me know if it's good news or not."
"It's no news," Chris said. "Things are good with you and I want you to know that I'm not thinking about where I've already been. I want to build a life with you. This HBO thing we're doing is going to have both of our names on it. It's going to be around forever."
"If it gets made," Armie said quickly. "I'm still working on it."
"It'll happen. When it does, it's not going to be like the movie that I wrote and you were in. That movie was a done deal before you got involved. But this new one might...I don't know. Working on something from start to finish is a big deal. What if we argue and fight and things blow up?"
"You encouraged me to do it," Armie said. "I'm invested now. Nothing is going to stop me from getting it done."
Chris pressed their foreheads together and kissed Armie full on. The passion was intoxicating, but there was more he needed to say. "Jake and I worked on a lot of things together," Chris said quietly, his voice barely audible over the sounds around them. "Not everything was easy and not everything was well-received. I need you to know that. Even if I try as hard as I can, it might not be good."
"Don't think about it that way," Armie said. "You're going to write an amazing script. Then, I'll make something that approaches amazing and, as long as we're both proud of it, it'll be alright."
"Don't say that just because you think it's what I want to hear."
"I'm not," Armie said. "I'm saying it because I believe it."
"You guys can't be doing this out here." Chris and Armie both turned their heads towards the voice. It was Sebastian, who was walking towards them with two bags in his hands. "I got Thai food. Is that alright?"
"Did we have plans tonight?" Chris asked.
"Nope. I just needed an excuse to come over."
"Girl problems?"
"You know it," Sebastian said, walking right past them towards the house. "Fair warning: this is going to take a while."
"It'll all work out," Armie whispered in Chris' ear. "Just give it a shot. Like you gave me."
Feedback: breakingthroughstory@gmail.com