A quick thank you to all of the readers who took the time to send kind messages for the first few chapters of the story. I very much appreciate it.
Please send any feedback, complaints, and correspondence to breakingthroughstory@gmail.com. I'm looking forward to continuing this creative endeavor in the new year and hope to rebuild the sense of community that had been established the first time around between readers and writers. The chapters will be shorter, I'm not sure if there will be explicit sex scenes this time around and I'll probably use too many commas and em dashes. I don't have a proofreader. You've been warned. Happy reading!
A quick primer for the uninitiated: Jake Gyllenhaal and fictional character Christopher Lewis, a novelist, began a somewhat turbulent relationship. This new story will take place in a loose version of the present day and most of the main ideas from the first go-round will remain, for the most part. Jake is still an actor and Chris is still a writer, but with a 10-year jump in time, some things have changed. The new story will do away with a lot of the tertiary characters in the old narrative, as well.
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Chapter 4
"It's not the first time I've broken my arm," Armie said through a haze of painkillers and sedatives. Chris sighed, wondering how the night could get any worse. After Armie refused to let him call 911, he finally relented and agreed to be taken to the emergency room. A broken arm and broken spirit were the only things either of them had to worry about. A few hours of waiting and Armie was plastered up, his arm resting in a sling. The emergency room was one place A-listers get the same attention as anyone else, Chris thought. For one of the only times in his life, he'd have given anything for some special treatment.
"This won't put me out of the running for the movie," he added for good measure. "A little physical therapy and I'll be fine. Broken bones? I've been there. Six weeks. Eight, max."
"Mr. Hammer knows what he's talking about," the doctor said. Armie practically beamed at the praise. "This should heal up without a problem. I'll get the discharge papers ready."
"Armie," Chris started, only to be greeted by a goofy grin and a smug sense of pride. "As much as I like you for the movie, there's clearly some sort of bad mojo that comes along with me. This could be bad for your career."
"What are you talking about?" Armie asked, swatting his good hand around. "You're gold."
Chris chuckled. "I'm definitely not gold," he said.
"You have an Oscar!" Armie said a little too loud. "It's actual gold! I want one!" Chris needed to get Armie home, only he had no idea where he lived. That would prove to be a problem. All he could recall was some mention of a too-big house in Los Feliz. He didn't even know if it was right to call someone. Was Armie's relationship with his ex still on good terms? Chris realized he hadn't bothered to ask. Against his better judgment, he wheeled Armie out to the car in the hospital-issue wheelchair and drove home.
Armie woke up the next morning, half-remembering that he'd been tucked into a very comfortable bed that wasn't his. He was half-dressed, the painkillers had worn off and every time he tried to move, pain shot through his entire body, spreading from his broken arm to the very ends of his ears and down to his toes. He blinked and blinked, wondering where he was and trying to piece together what happened last night after the fall.
He groaned as he tried to right himself and managed to sit up. Then, like a vision out of a dream, Chris knocked on the door and slid it open. The pocket door was nearly silent and Armie watched as Chris walked in, wearing a white T-shirt and dark blue lounge pants. It wasn't a nurse, but Armie would take it, especially when he saw the water and pill bottle in Chris' hand.
"How do you want your eggs," Chris asked, sarcasm dripping from every word. "I can't believe we went through that. How do you feel?" The sincerity came back pretty quickly after that first remark.
Armie took the water and pills gratefully, smiling when there was a blueberry muffin handed to him, too. "Better knowing I've got a bottle of these babies."
"Should I call someone? Do you need to let anyone know that you're okay, that I didn't murder you?"
"I'll call my mom. Aside from that, this can be our little secret."
Even with his hair mussed from the pillow and his arm in a cast, Armie looked every bit the leading man. Chris sat down in the chair that Sebastian had moved just a few days earlier. "You scared me," Chris said.
"It's nice to know you care," Armie said, smiling. "What a way to go down though, right? We were this close to coming up here anyway, but I eat it right in front of your house. So smooth."
"A real Greek tragedy."
"I felt your boner through your pants last night."
"Do painkillers turn you into a high schooler?"
"Don't be so serious." Armie cracked his neck, groaning at the sensation. He reached over to Chris' nightstand and opened the drawer. "No condoms. I like the way you operate."
Chris just rolled his eyes. "Do you want to go downstairs?"
Armie shook his head smugly and settled back against the headboard, "I'm a-okay right here."
"I'll get you your phone. Don't get too comfortable. I've got stuff to do today."
"I'm literally crippled. I think there's a societal obligation for you to help me with everything. Sponge baths included."
"Stop."
"You care about me," Armie said in a singsong tone. He repeated it and Chris could hear it, even from downstairs. "You care about me. You care about me."
Chris straightened up the blanket he used last night and set it on one side of the couch. He carefully placed the pillow on top, trying his best to make everything presentable. For who, he didn't know, but it seemed like the right thing to do. He still had to return Sebastian's pan. He had edits to make on the final draft of the script. He also had Armie Hammer upstairs in his bed. He also questioned his decision to turn the extra bedroom into an office when he did a lot of his work downstairs.
"I didn't mean to put you out of your own bed," Chris heard Armie behind him. His arm was in a sling and a half-eaten muffin was in the other hand. "And I just used your toothbrush." He paused beside Chris and took another bite. "This house has great light. It looks totally different at night."
"The houses across the way get the sunsets."
"I'm sure you can see them from upstairs, you basically live in a fishbowl."
"It feels that way sometimes, doesn't it?"
"Don't I know it."
Armie didn't seem like he was in any hurry to leave, Chris noticed. He promised to stay out of the way, but he also insisted that he should take it easy, so he got comfortable on the couch, which conveniently had a pillow and blanket ready for him. Like a good nurse, Chris made sure to give Armie his pills and made sure he was comfortable. It was the least he could do, the guilt kicking in every time he passed by the family room for water or a snack.
As the day went on, he thought more and more about why he pushed Armie away last night. Part of him wanted to respect the man. He deserved more than someone who jumped right into a new relationship. But Chris couldn't overlook the fact that Armie made him smile when he wasn't trying to get on his nerves.
"Is your mom coming?"
"She lives in Dallas," Armie said over his shoulder. "But if we're skipping to the whole meet-the-folks thing, I can arrange it. She'd love you."
"You barely know me," Chris reminded him.
"I know more than you think."
From his own experience, Chris found that people who thought they knew him, people who had read interviews, seen him speak, read all his books, didn't really know him. They knew what Chris wanted them to know. And after Jake, more people than ever thought they knew him. They didn't. Not that he wanted anyone to know everything about him. There was only one person out there who did.
"Come here," Chris said. Armie looked surprised, but followed along, staying a few paces behind Chris as he walked upstairs. He sat down on the top step and Armie did the same, their knees touching. "I put the lounge chair there to see the sunsets. If you couldn't tell, this house isn't really meant for guests." He rested his head on Armie's shoulder and together, they watched the sky change from blue to a watercolor mix of oranges and pinks. Neither of them said anything, but Chris decided that he wasn't going to fight his feelings if it meant that he wouldn't have Armie in his life.
Armie stayed one more night. When he left the next day, Chris actually missed him. "Armie Hammer is a yes," Chris told Jean-Marc over the phone as he brewed his third coffee of the day. "He's my number one."
"He's very tall."
"He's a giant, I know. It'll be tough to find a guy that doesn't look tiny next to him, but I think someone like Liam Hemsworth might work? But maybe someone who isn't so vapid? Who else is on the list?"
"We need to look for more," Jean-Marc insisted. Chris agreed, but time was running out. Soon, they'd have to have screen tests and see how the chemistry worked out between the movie's two leading men and the supporting cast. It could go well and be done in just a few day or stretch everything out even longer. Chris hoped for the latter and prayed that the process would fly by. He'd submitted the final edits and was hoping that he could step away from the entire thing and just let everyone work their magic without him having to consult on every last thing. He'd lived and breathed the book already; the movie shouldn't consume him all over again.
A few weeks later, Chris opened his front door only to be greeted by a bouquet of peonies. It was so big, he didn't have anything to put them in, so he had to split the bouquet into two smaller vases. Without even looking at the card, he knew it was from Armie. The cover of "The Hollywood Reporter" said it all. He'd landed the lead alongside Gael Garcia Bernal in what the industry was calling a watershed moment. Not only was a major studio movie being made about two men in love, the two men were interracial -- and an openly gay man wrote the story. If that didn't check every box and offer up a reason for studio execs to pat themselves on the back, Chris couldn't think of anything that would. And with the announcement and every other piece coming together, Chris could finally breathe a sigh of relief. It was the beginning of the end of his involvement and he could focus on finding a new story to tell.
"Congratulations are in order," Jake said through the phone. "I'm really proud of you."
"Thank you," Chris said as he carried a vase upstairs. "I'm happy about it. About everything."
"You deserve to be. It's a huge deal. How are you celebrating?"
"It sounds like I'm celebrating with you," there was a hint of hope in his voice.
"It would be an honor."
Jake was wearing a thin sweater. It clung to the muscles of his chest and offered a peek of unruly hair at the collar. They were sitting across from each other at a sushi restaurant, a view of the marina behind Jake. Chris could see sailboats coming in. The sky was already darkening. "What now," Jake asked, pouring tea for the two of them. Chris watched as the steam rose and swirled above the cups. "Are you going to take a break?"
"A long one," Chris said. "And I mean it this time. I might to the city, visit your sister and the kids."
"They miss you. I was FaceTiming them last night."
"I want to really get away though. Off the grid like Cheryl Strayed."
Jake grinned. "You've been reading Cheryl Strayed?"
"No, I overheard a group of women talking about 'Wild' when I got coffee the other day. They were all about it."
Jake laughed at the thought of Chris strapping on a pack and tackling the High Sierras by himself. Calling him a recluse wouldn't be a stretch, but calling him an outdoorsman would. "Remember that time we went to Bali?"
"That's 'Eat Pray Love,'" Chris interjected. "Totally different."
"No, I mean you could go back there. You were into that meditation workshop."
"Yeah, I called it naptime. I've got time to decide. I've got nothing but time right now."
"That's why I ordered the chef's menu. We're gonna be here for hours."
Chris settled in as the sushi came, his eyes watching Jake's biceps flex as he picked up his pieces of fish. While Chris had nothing but an open schedule for the foreseeable future, Jake was headed to North Carolina to shoot. For once, their schedules seemed to work out for the two of them. From past experiences, though, being on set wasn't great for either of them. Jake was deep into character work and the last thing Chris wanted to do was explore a city on his own. He remembered a trip to the Toronto Film Festival. There was so much to do that they barely spent any time together. Aside from nights in their hotel, the event, which was supposed to be fun, was just movie after movie. They spent hours sitting together in theaters, but could barely speak since the movies were back-to-back. Jake was on the judging panel, too, so they even skipped out on most of the parties. That's what work trips were like. Chris could go the rest of his life without experiencing that again.
Between the fatty tuna and the salmon, Chris slid his hand across the table and gripped Jake's. The physical contact felt nice, especially with the good spirits in the atmosphere.
"You need a break," Jake said as their last two pieces of sushi came. Chris had lost count by now. "I'll miss you, though. I miss you all the time."
Chris' brow furrowed when he got back to his house. A car was in his driveway, blocking his usual parking spot. He didn't recognize it. Like Jake had said before, parking in his neighborhood sucked. He circled the block and finally wedged his car between a huge SUV and a tiny Fiat and shoved his hands into his jacket pockets before heading back around to get to his own home. When he reached his house, the gravel driveway and its drought-friendly landscaping illuminated by the lights that automatically turned on every night, he saw Armie.
"I can see the flowers I sent you!" he said, a beaming smile on his face. He took a few huge steps towards Chris and pulled him into a hug. He came in for a kiss, too, but Chris turned his head and Armie's lips met his cheekbone.
"It's good to see you," Chris said. "Thanks for the flowers. How is your arm?" Chris could see that it wasn't in a cast anymore, but he was still wearing a sling.
"Almost as good as new." Armie's voice was warm. It sent a tingle right down Chris' spine. "I wanted to say thank you in person, though. You don't know how happy I am."
Sighing, Chris wrapped his arms around Armie's waist and let his face smash into his chest. Armie smelled like expensive cologne. Chris could tell he was freshly showered. There were unfamiliar curves and contours with Armie. When he was with Jake, he knew exactly where he fit in, knew how to position himself to get the most contact against his own body. This was new. Armie didn't question the gesture, just let his own arms wrap around Chris, his good hand feeling the muscles in Chris' back, his face rubbing against the top of Chris' head.
"Everything feels sort of lighter now," Chris said, his words muffled by Armie's T-shirt. "I can breathe."
"I bet," Armie said quietly.
"You parked in my driveway."
"Parking here sucks."
Chris shook his head. "Do you want to come inside?"
"No. I want to stay just like this." His voice was quiet. The air felt still and serene. He could hear crickets, feel everything around them settling in for the night.
"I want to sleep without setting an alarm," Chris whispered. "Can you even imagine what that's like?"
"It's been a while," Armie said. He started rocking them together. He could feel Chris' arms tightening around him, pulling their bodies closer. "Let's get inside. I've been waiting for you longer than I'd like to admit."
Chris peeled himself away, but didn't resist when Armie's hand slid down his arm and grasped his own. Slowly, the two of them approached the door and Chris unlocked it with a familiar ease. The lights turned on via motion sensor, Chris emptied his pockets into a tray he kept by the door. All the motions fluid, everything well practiced.
"I'll make us some tea," Chris said. He tapped out a quick message to Jake, letting him know that he'd arrived home. It was another habit that he'd probably never kick. He got a thumbs-up emoji and a heart in return.
They've kissed twice, Armie thinks. Once was long and drawn-out, Chris straddling his lap at the Chateau Marmont. The second time was in this very kitchen. Fleeting. It was enough to give a normal guy whiplash, but Armie knew what was going on. He was going through the same thing. He wondered if that's why Chris kept coming back to him.
Chris shuffled over, two mugs in his hands. He set them down and settled down on the couch, his head in Armie's lap. Then, he talked. After keeping his feelings in for so long, they seemed to spill out, bursting through every defense and Armie listened. He stroked Chris' hair and took it all in. For once, he had no clever responses.