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withthepilotTitle: Apocalypso; Chapter 9: Anywhere (10/10)
Rating: R
Pairing: Chris/Zach
Word Count: 4,402
Warning: None.
Author Notes: See Prologue: Kicking and Screaming, especially if you've been waiting for the series to end before you tackle it. And whether you've been following along or waiting, thank you for reading.
Download: The Presets - Anywhere
Deeper, I know you want it deeper
You know you want it deeper
I think we're going deeper
I know you want it
Faster, I know you want it faster
I know you want it faster
These days we're moving faster
I think we're moving
It's half past six when Zoe calls. Zach shuffles into the living room, where he left the phone earlier, and sits on the sofa, Harold immediately curling beside him. The sun is starting to go down and the light is golden, shattering its way through the window blinds, across the floor and over the furniture. Harold stretches into it, his fur feeling warm to the touch.
"Hey, Z," he says, and props his feet on the table, crossing them at the ankles.
"You signed the contract today, right?"
"I did," he says, making sure to smile, even though she isn't here and can't see anyway. "I'm all set to play your distinguished half-Vulcan lover, once again."
"Yes!" Zoe squeals. He laughs because he can hear her jumping up and down. "Oh, god, I can't wait. I never thought I'd miss all that running around and hours of make-up and wearing that tight-ass ponytail so much." She laughs then, too, and it's infectious, a bubbly soda-pop laugh; Zach is sure someone could bottle it and make a killing in profits. "So, that's nearly everyone, then...you're signed, and I heard from John and Karl, Anton, Simon..."
"Bruce?" Zach asks, ignoring the obvious.
"Yeah, Bruce! He's so thrilled they're going to include him again..."
A few moments of sad silence lurch by and Zach finally shakes his head, murmuring, "Well, if you haven't heard from him, I certainly wouldn't have, you know."
"He'll sign on," she sighs. "He's better now. Karl said he's doing really well and J.J. seems more than willing to take a chance on him."
Zach forces himself to stare blankly ahead; even months after the fact, he can still envision that entire evening when he closes his eyes. Zach took him to a hospital outside of town so word wouldn't get out as quickly, speeding all the way. It seemed like no matter how hard he stepped on the gas, he needed to go faster, faster—and yet, he was terrified that he'd get pulled over and not make it there in time. As soon as they got to the hospital and Chris was taken away for whatever detox routine he required, he bent forward, his palms to his knees and cursed himself for putting Chris in jeopardy by going to a hospital so out of the way and driving like a madman, for putting career over health. He couldn't help it. It was how he'd been trained.
He sat in the waiting room and called Chris' parents, trying to explain the situation as best as he could with a mind full of noise. It had been the scariest drive of his life; every time he looked over at Chris, he could practically see him falling deeper and deeper into unconsciousness, his breathing growing harsh and labored, and there was nothing he could do to bring him back. His body still thrummed with adrenaline as he sat in the waiting room, following the given instructions of the place and waiting, waiting, nearly driving himself crazy with impatience among those white walls and plastic seats. When Chris' parents arrived, his father insisted he go home, get some rest and come back later. Zach didn't want to leave Chris, but the frantic buzz of the drive was wearing off and he was crashing, big time. If he didn't head out just then, he'd probably have fallen asleep at the wheel altogether and driven right into a tree. Plus, Chris was in good hands. So he left, going home and falling asleep for five hours, slumped over at his kitchen table.
When he drove back later in the day, he was told that Chris' parents had checked him out already. There was no one there to see. And no one to talk to—all his phone calls, to all of the Pines, went straight to voicemail and by the next day, any call to Chris was interrupted by an automated message that droned, This number is no longer in service. By the end of the evening, it was all over the news that Chris had checked himself into rehab.
He thought about Robert's tight smile as he squeezed his shoulder and urged him to go home, get some rest; the fatherly voice that seemed to sympathize with his apprehension and emotional exhaustion. Obviously, he agreed that Chris needed to get the fuck away from Zach. In his heart of hearts, Zach knew he was right. He put the phone down after the fifth attempt and didn't bother trying again.
"I know he is, I've seen some photos," he says to Zoe. His voice is slightly hoarse, all of a sudden. He licks his lips and tries not to stutter. "Well, if...even if he doesn't sign on, it'll still be a blast."
"He will sign on, Zach," Zoe says, softly. "He's Captain Kirk. He was born for it and he knows it. You saw that in him before anyone else."
It doesn't matter now, he wants to say. It's in the past; let it go. We're moving on.
"We'll see," he says, instead. He sinks deeper into the cushions.
Further, I know we're going further
You know we're going further
Yeah, now we're climbing further
And I can see it
Warmer, yeah, now you're getting warmer
Feel like you're getting closer
Yeah, now you're getting so hot
Feel like you're burning
Zach has spent the last few months paying very close to attention to Chris' recovery progress in the news. It's the best he can do, piecing together scant information from blogs and magazine articles with the occasional updates from Karl and Zoe. Karl was hesitant at first to tell him anything, but after one particularly piteous phone call during one of Zach's bad days, with slight hyperventilation and begging on Zach's end, he softened and agreed to open up a bit about what he knew.
And Zach does have good days and bad days. Not a single one has gone by when he doesn't think about Chris, but sometimes, it takes all he has not to break every fragile object in his house and fall to his bare knees in the broken pieces. Zach hates clichés with a passion, but even he can't deny the truth: he created a monster. He almost wants Chris to pass on doing the sequel so he can just leave all this ugliness behind. Chris has been out of rehab for about two months, though he quietly moved to a different neighborhood, and on the days Zach is lucky enough to see a new photo of him, out and about, he looks better and better, climbing further up the ladder to good health and sound mind again.
He can't bring himself to think about what it might do to Chris' mental state to have to work side by side with him again. It's not like Kirk and Spock can avoid each other. It might even be more intense than the first time around. He can't bring himself to think about working with Chris and not being able to touch him. Having to pretend that they're just co-stars, acquaintances, that there was never anything between them.
He hopes Chris passes on it. Hell, if he believed in a god, he'd pray for it.
So, of course, it doesn't surprise him when he turns on E! News one night and hears Ryan Seacrest breaking the big news with his dumb, shrill voice.
Is recent rehab visitor Chris Pine ready to jump back into the captain's chair for the upcoming Star Trek sequel? That is so TRUE... The 29-year-old actor, looking healthy and happy today while shopping in downtown Santa Monica, told us that he's just signed on to revisit the role that originally shot him to stardom—Captain James T. Kirk, the U.S.S. Enterprise's leading man and infamous ladykiller. He'll be joining fellow actors Zachary Quinto, Zoe Saldana, John Cho and the rest of the 21st-century Trek cast as they boldly return to the bridge on the set of the J.J. Abrams-helmed sequel. Chris says he's feeling great and looking forward to playing Kirk again and, "reconnecting with the greatest cast on Earth and the entire galaxy..."
"Oh, barf," Anton says, picking a mushroom off his pizza slice and depositing it into his mouth. "Chris would never say that."
John shakes his head, using his perfected straight-man voice. "See, I take offense at your instantaneous dismissal of Ryan Seacrest's journalistic integrity. He strikes me as a trustworthy guy. I'm actually thinking about asking him to be my kid's godfather, but, you know. I'm kind of shy."
Naturally, Zach chose this evening as the night for their weekly pizza party. Zoe had instituted it as a means of getting Zach's mind off of things, namely Chris Pine and his beautiful fucking face, the one currently staring at him from the TV screen. And, of course, they're at her place this week, so he can't even go and hide under his own bed.
"Is Ryan Seacrest gay?" Anton asks. "Because he looks gay."
Zach puts his plate down and shuts his eyes. He kind of wants to pass out and vomit at the same time.
"You guys, didn't you hear what he said?" Zoe interrupts, waving a hand at the TV. "Chris said yes! I knew he would do it!" The look of glee on her face brings on another wave of nausea for Zach, and suddenly she's looking at him in concern, placing a hand on his forehead. "You okay, baby? You don't look well. You're kind of warm."
"Yeah, I...something in the pizza, maybe," Zach mumbles. Of course he feels warm. He's one step closer to the supernova that is Christopher Pine, preparing himself for the moment when he has to cross paths with all that heat. He feels like he's burning.
He goes home that night and lies in bed, catching the rerun of the broadcast. The warmth floods him again, but this time it's the memory of all the heat that radiated from Chris' body as it curled against him, between these very sheets. The cotton is cool to the touch now, stiff and unmarked. He's on his own now. So is Chris. Wherever he is.
The sound of thunder nearly tears him from his reverie. He sits up and looks out at the storm as it rages beyond his window. It's so loud, it feels almost apocalyptic.
Surprise, surprise
You're on your own
It's in your eyes
The loves you've known
And the ones you loved
You lost completely
"Zach, come on."
"No."
"Come on. Don't be like that."
Zach's shoulders stiffen as he takes a long sip of his tea. He's been trying to wean himself off his coffee habit, but it's not really working. The waitress comes by and asks if he'd like a refill on the hot water, and he sighs, shaking his head. "Lemme just get a cup of coffee instead," he says, and she nods, walking off. Karl laughs, stirring sugar into his own refilled cup.
"I knew it wouldn't last," he says. He picks up his burger and takes a hearty bite, smirking across the table at Zach, who stabs at his salad.
"It's because you're stressing me with this shit, Karl. You invite me out for lunch two weeks before we start shooting, tell me you're throwing a cast reunion party tomorrow night, and I'm supposed to be all...'Woohoo, partaaaay?'" He shakes his head, waving a hand. "Screw that."
Karl finishes chewing and swallows, licking his lips. "Well, why wouldn't you be? I throw pretty epic parties, mate. And everyone is going to be there."
"That's the problem," Zach says. He nods gratefully when the waitress brings him his coffee, dumping in a packet of Splenda and pouring in some of the regular milk. Karl arches in eyebrows in unbridled surprise and Zach shrugs. "They never have soy milk at this place."
"Now I've seen everything." Karl licks a spot of ketchup from the corner of his mouth and finishes his burger quickly, leaning back in his chair to adjust his trousers. He gives Zach a frank look after a whole minute goes by without any words exchanged. "Look, Quinto. I'll be straight with you."
"Makes a change," Zach murmurs from the rim of his cup.
"I'll ignore that, since I do think you should hear what I'm about to say, which is, my prissy little friend, that Chris wants to see you."
Zach's head jerks up at that, and he nearly spills his coffee all over himself. Which would suck, because he hasn't had any in ages and he needs it right now like he needs oxygen. "He...he does? But the...he moved, and his number changed, and..."
"He's still got the same number. His father just suspended his account while he was in rehab. And he moved because he didn't want the paparazzi bugging him about it after he got out." Karl's face screws up in both amusement and disbelief. "You think he was purposely trying to throw you off his trail? Christ, you're more self-absorbed than I thought, Quinto."
Zach glares at him, then, his lips pursed tight as a million thoughts and emotions ripple through him. It's probably a bad thing that he knows Chris still has his old number, considering he never got up the courage to delete it from his phone. He has half a mind to call him up right now and barrage his voicemail with weepy renditions of Neruda.
"I...I still can't," he finally says, weakly. He looks down into his cup and exhales. "You were right back then, Karl...I had him and I lost him because I never gave him what he needed. And he loved me so much, it was right there in his goddamn eyes, and I just...I pushed him too hard. I was afraid and I fucked him up. I did this to him, I can't—"
"The kid asks about you all the time, Zach." Karl's voice is stern but patient, and it snaps Zach to attention, urging him to adjust his glasses so he can watch the other man's face as he speaks. "He doesn't blame you for what happened to him. Even if the two of you were a goddamn ticking time bomb, it doesn't erase everything you went through, and all that you did for him. He's told me about it." He licks his lips, gathering his thoughts and lowering his voice, unable to meet Zach's stare. "I wanted to save him from you, you know...? I thought...god, this kid is so fucking young and bright and good, and this guy's just feeding off him, taking what he wants and..."
Karl trails off and Zach slumps down into his seat. Fucking Karl, making him remember this mediocre lunch forever. He shuts his eyes and whispers: "I thought he was going to die...that I'd lost him completely."
"But you didn't," Karl says. Zach opens his eyes again and the Kiwi is giving him one of his patented Duh, Zach looks. "So what are you mourning, exactly?"
Zach blinks owlishly, not knowing what to say to that. He's in the midst of trying to think of a snappy response when Karl spares him the effort and lightly kicks him under the table, muttering in a distinctly Bones-esque voice, "Eat your damn salad, Splenda Queen. Won't eat dairy but you're drinking a hot cup of cancer every day. Jesus fuckin' Christ."
Zach quirks a slight smile and does as he's told.
Louder, yeah, now it's getting louder
The noise is getting louder
The night is getting louder
And I can hear it
Stronger, and now you're going stronger
Yeah, now you're getting stronger
You're finally growing stronger
And I can feel it
The party turns out to be a rager, though a surprisingly dry one: Karl has instituted a policy of zero alcohol and drugs for the evening, in support of Chris. Zach considers his bottle of Diet Coke and wants to point out that Chris went to rehab for cocaine abuse, not alcohol, but he supposes it's the sacrifice that counts. Plus, he imagines the gesture will put one of those stunning smiles on Chris' face that he remembers so well, and that, right there, will surely be worth everyone's efforts.
Chris isn't here yet, though, and the wait is causing Zach's toes to tap impatiently against the floor, his fingers to pick and peel incessantly at the label on his bottle. Every time the door opens for a new guest, his breath quickens, only to calm again when it's someone decidedly not Chris. He nearly starts out of his seat when Clifton walks in, who just smirks and gives Zach a Vulcan salute. He returns it with a slightly embarrassed smile and then gets up to hug him properly. He makes a mental note to apologize later for any disappointment he might have given off when Clifton walked in.
Zach steals a spot against the back wall of the living room, propping himself up with his left foot. Zoe sidles up to him after a while, sipping from a can of ginger ale. "Hey, sexy," she says. She rubs his arm with a knowing smile. "You nervous?"
"I don't get nervous," Zach replies, trying to put on his best Spock—hell, even Sylar would do right now. Any character that scoffs at the feelings he's been dealing with for the past few months would be a pleasant change for his psyche.
"Yeah, right," Zoe smirks. "I know you used to be cool as a cucumber, honey, but face it: that boy changed you. And it's not a bad thing." She pokes the tip of his nose gently and then kisses him, a fleeting, friendly brush of lips. "I'm excited for you," she whispers. "It's a fresh start."
"That would be nice," he murmurs back. Nice, a benign word compared to the tangle of teenage angst he feels roiling in his gut. Nice will do for now.
Just then, the entire room seems to erupt into a round of cheers and they both turn their heads toward the front door. There's Chris, peering in and laughing at the warm welcome, and Karl immediately scoops him up into a bear hug. Zach thought he'd lose his breath completely when he first saw Chris, but he finds he's smiling fondly at the way everyone is so ridiculously happy to see him. The crowd that gathers around him for congratulatory embraces and kisses on the cheek is almost comical in both size and exuberance.
"I'm going to go say hi," Zoe says, squeezing Zach's wrist before skipping off. Zach just stays where he is, content for now to revel in the scene as an outsider. It doesn't last long, as John comes out of nowhere to place a glass of what looks to be champagne in his hand, winking as he explains, "Sparkling cider. We're doing a toast for Chris."
Zach nods as John flits away and directs his gaze to the front of the room where Karl is loudly—very loudly—clinking his glass with a fork and shouting for everyone to raise their own in honor of their "talented, brave, fucking awesome best friend and compatriot, Christopher Whitelaw Pine." Chris' cheeks glow with a dutiful blush as the kind words are bellowed, and when he looks up, it's directly at Zach, who feels utterly captivated by the strength of that superhuman gaze. The noise of the party grows exponentially louder around him.
Zach reminds himself to raise his glass. His answering "Cheers" is a mere whisper into the amplified din of the night.
So let yourself down tonight
Anywhere
I'll take you out tonight
Anywhere
Put on that dress you like
Anywhere
The one with birds on it
They're flying around
It's not ironic that Chris finds him on the balcony. He almost doesn't see Zach at first because he's pressed against the building façade. But, of course, he does find him. Zach wants to wince at the sight of him; he's too beautiful for words, and he looks stronger than he's ever been. How can Zach ever believe it doesn't have something to do with his absence? He has a sudden vision of the boy from the club, far less rugged and muscled than the man before him now, but just as illuminated. Blue Eyes. Abercrombie.
"Chris," he whispers. And then his throat feels too crowded to say anything else.
"Hey," he says, shifting awkwardly before holding up his glass. "You know what'd make this better? Rum."
Zach laughs suddenly. He could kiss Chris for piercing the silence with a joke. Hell, he could kiss him anyway. He wants to. "Don't look at me; it was all Karl's idea."
"I know. It's actually really sweet." Chris smiles faintly and nods to himself, looking at the glass again. "But still, a little buttered rum and this would be fucking ridiculous."
"Buttered rum with sparkling cider? You're crazy."
"Crazy like a fox." Chris leans back against the railing of the balcony without batting an eye and Zach has to smile. The guy really is brave, isn't he? Suddenly, Zach has to wonder what he's been so afraid of, this whole time. "So...two weeks to go until we're back in the saddle again. Ready for it?"
"I think so." Zach reaches up and absently touches one of his eyebrows. "Not so much the shaving again, but...I suffer for my art."
"Not to mention for fashion. Those jeans are at least two sizes too small, dude. They can see your junk from Mars."
Zach blinks and looks down at his crotch, fighting off a blush. "Well, if they're looking, they deserve what they get, i.e. an eyeful of Zach Quinto."
"We both know you're more than an eyeful," Chris murmurs.
They exchange smiles and when Chris' blossoms into a full-on grin, Zach feels short of breath, like he could bump against a rubber balloon and fall to pieces.
"Chris...I'm so fucking—"
"It's okay," Chris says, raising a hand to cut him off. The grin falls away and he shakes his head sorrowfully. "I should have called you to let you know I was okay. I mean...you fucking saved me, Zach. I was just confused and...ashamed." He sniffs and runs a hand back through his hair. "I wanted to convince myself that I didn't need you."
"You don't need me, Chris."
"Oh, don't give me that shit." He rolls his eyes and quirks a small smile. "You know we're two codependent bastards. If you'd driven us to fucking Kansas that night, I would have been fine with it. I'd follow you anywhere, Zach."
Me too, Zach almost says. But he knows that's not what Chris needs to hear. He licks his lips, a habit he probably picked up from him. "I wouldn't ask you to, Chris. I'll never make you follow in my footsteps again. That's not what's right for you."
"But what if I want to?" Chris whispers, and oh god, it's so hard to look away from those eyes. They've been gone for so long. He feels like Spock, coming face to face with twin stars, struggling to fight back all the emotions they elicit.
Zach forces himself to glance at the birds swooping across the sky, silhouettes against the setting California sun, blazing as it closes in on the horizon. It's like the end of the world out there, down where the sun is going, and he and Chris are right there with it.
Now, when you're short of breath
Go anywhere
And when your heart's in pieces
Anywhere
I'll take you out tonight
"Well, that's different," Zach says. He puts his glass down on the railing. "But not like the way it was."
"No," Chris whispers. "New start. Fresh start."
Chris reaches out and cups the back of Zach's neck, his fingertips warm like points of light against his skin, and their foreheads meet to rest against each other. Chris is so close to him now, all gold and soft edges against him, but there's no need to rush, no need to kiss him senseless or touch him all over, as much as he might want to and as much as Chris might expect it. Zach has to earn that now. He's willing to wait for what he wants, as long as he needs to. He'll do anything, go anywhere.
They stand there like that for who knows how long, the sun slipping behind buildings until it filters away, the thump of the music booming like an old friend from behind the wall, coming from a safe space where everyone loves them, a place where they're allowed to love each other.
"Should go back inside soon," Zach mumbles, centimeters from Chris' mouth. "All your admirers are awaiting your presence."
"I'll go if you go," Chris whispers teasingly. Zach adjusts Chris' tie and smiles to himself. He's always liked this one; it looks good with his complexion.
"I'll be there in a minute. Go on."
Chris parts himself from Zach then, offering him one last smile before taking his glass and heading back into the apartment. Zach turns to watch through the glass-pane doors as he's immediately inundated by the waiting horde of their friends, showered with their compassion and adulation. Chris has always had that affect on people, Zach knows. It used to make him jealous, but it's a different world now, and he finds he doesn't mind. He knows what he has and now that he's not afraid of it, he hopes Chris knows, too. There are a lot of scary things to be afraid of in life; love is the least of them. Sinking isn't so bad, either; the sun does it every night and always returns to rise again.
Zach skims his palm along the edge of the balcony, listening to the old, familiar sound of Chris' laughter. He curls his fingers tightly around the railing, enough to distinguish the beat of his pulse. He feels it flow, everywhere.
Previous: This Boy's in Love
Rating: R
Pairing: Chris/Zach
Word Count: 4,402
Warning: None.
Author Notes: See Prologue: Kicking and Screaming, especially if you've been waiting for the series to end before you tackle it. And whether you've been following along or waiting, thank you for reading.
Download: The Presets - Anywhere
Deeper, I know you want it deeper
You know you want it deeper
I think we're going deeper
I know you want it
Faster, I know you want it faster
I know you want it faster
These days we're moving faster
I think we're moving
It's half past six when Zoe calls. Zach shuffles into the living room, where he left the phone earlier, and sits on the sofa, Harold immediately curling beside him. The sun is starting to go down and the light is golden, shattering its way through the window blinds, across the floor and over the furniture. Harold stretches into it, his fur feeling warm to the touch.
"Hey, Z," he says, and props his feet on the table, crossing them at the ankles.
"You signed the contract today, right?"
"I did," he says, making sure to smile, even though she isn't here and can't see anyway. "I'm all set to play your distinguished half-Vulcan lover, once again."
"Yes!" Zoe squeals. He laughs because he can hear her jumping up and down. "Oh, god, I can't wait. I never thought I'd miss all that running around and hours of make-up and wearing that tight-ass ponytail so much." She laughs then, too, and it's infectious, a bubbly soda-pop laugh; Zach is sure someone could bottle it and make a killing in profits. "So, that's nearly everyone, then...you're signed, and I heard from John and Karl, Anton, Simon..."
"Bruce?" Zach asks, ignoring the obvious.
"Yeah, Bruce! He's so thrilled they're going to include him again..."
A few moments of sad silence lurch by and Zach finally shakes his head, murmuring, "Well, if you haven't heard from him, I certainly wouldn't have, you know."
"He'll sign on," she sighs. "He's better now. Karl said he's doing really well and J.J. seems more than willing to take a chance on him."
Zach forces himself to stare blankly ahead; even months after the fact, he can still envision that entire evening when he closes his eyes. Zach took him to a hospital outside of town so word wouldn't get out as quickly, speeding all the way. It seemed like no matter how hard he stepped on the gas, he needed to go faster, faster—and yet, he was terrified that he'd get pulled over and not make it there in time. As soon as they got to the hospital and Chris was taken away for whatever detox routine he required, he bent forward, his palms to his knees and cursed himself for putting Chris in jeopardy by going to a hospital so out of the way and driving like a madman, for putting career over health. He couldn't help it. It was how he'd been trained.
He sat in the waiting room and called Chris' parents, trying to explain the situation as best as he could with a mind full of noise. It had been the scariest drive of his life; every time he looked over at Chris, he could practically see him falling deeper and deeper into unconsciousness, his breathing growing harsh and labored, and there was nothing he could do to bring him back. His body still thrummed with adrenaline as he sat in the waiting room, following the given instructions of the place and waiting, waiting, nearly driving himself crazy with impatience among those white walls and plastic seats. When Chris' parents arrived, his father insisted he go home, get some rest and come back later. Zach didn't want to leave Chris, but the frantic buzz of the drive was wearing off and he was crashing, big time. If he didn't head out just then, he'd probably have fallen asleep at the wheel altogether and driven right into a tree. Plus, Chris was in good hands. So he left, going home and falling asleep for five hours, slumped over at his kitchen table.
When he drove back later in the day, he was told that Chris' parents had checked him out already. There was no one there to see. And no one to talk to—all his phone calls, to all of the Pines, went straight to voicemail and by the next day, any call to Chris was interrupted by an automated message that droned, This number is no longer in service. By the end of the evening, it was all over the news that Chris had checked himself into rehab.
He thought about Robert's tight smile as he squeezed his shoulder and urged him to go home, get some rest; the fatherly voice that seemed to sympathize with his apprehension and emotional exhaustion. Obviously, he agreed that Chris needed to get the fuck away from Zach. In his heart of hearts, Zach knew he was right. He put the phone down after the fifth attempt and didn't bother trying again.
"I know he is, I've seen some photos," he says to Zoe. His voice is slightly hoarse, all of a sudden. He licks his lips and tries not to stutter. "Well, if...even if he doesn't sign on, it'll still be a blast."
"He will sign on, Zach," Zoe says, softly. "He's Captain Kirk. He was born for it and he knows it. You saw that in him before anyone else."
It doesn't matter now, he wants to say. It's in the past; let it go. We're moving on.
"We'll see," he says, instead. He sinks deeper into the cushions.
Further, I know we're going further
You know we're going further
Yeah, now we're climbing further
And I can see it
Warmer, yeah, now you're getting warmer
Feel like you're getting closer
Yeah, now you're getting so hot
Feel like you're burning
Zach has spent the last few months paying very close to attention to Chris' recovery progress in the news. It's the best he can do, piecing together scant information from blogs and magazine articles with the occasional updates from Karl and Zoe. Karl was hesitant at first to tell him anything, but after one particularly piteous phone call during one of Zach's bad days, with slight hyperventilation and begging on Zach's end, he softened and agreed to open up a bit about what he knew.
And Zach does have good days and bad days. Not a single one has gone by when he doesn't think about Chris, but sometimes, it takes all he has not to break every fragile object in his house and fall to his bare knees in the broken pieces. Zach hates clichés with a passion, but even he can't deny the truth: he created a monster. He almost wants Chris to pass on doing the sequel so he can just leave all this ugliness behind. Chris has been out of rehab for about two months, though he quietly moved to a different neighborhood, and on the days Zach is lucky enough to see a new photo of him, out and about, he looks better and better, climbing further up the ladder to good health and sound mind again.
He can't bring himself to think about what it might do to Chris' mental state to have to work side by side with him again. It's not like Kirk and Spock can avoid each other. It might even be more intense than the first time around. He can't bring himself to think about working with Chris and not being able to touch him. Having to pretend that they're just co-stars, acquaintances, that there was never anything between them.
He hopes Chris passes on it. Hell, if he believed in a god, he'd pray for it.
So, of course, it doesn't surprise him when he turns on E! News one night and hears Ryan Seacrest breaking the big news with his dumb, shrill voice.
Is recent rehab visitor Chris Pine ready to jump back into the captain's chair for the upcoming Star Trek sequel? That is so TRUE... The 29-year-old actor, looking healthy and happy today while shopping in downtown Santa Monica, told us that he's just signed on to revisit the role that originally shot him to stardom—Captain James T. Kirk, the U.S.S. Enterprise's leading man and infamous ladykiller. He'll be joining fellow actors Zachary Quinto, Zoe Saldana, John Cho and the rest of the 21st-century Trek cast as they boldly return to the bridge on the set of the J.J. Abrams-helmed sequel. Chris says he's feeling great and looking forward to playing Kirk again and, "reconnecting with the greatest cast on Earth and the entire galaxy..."
"Oh, barf," Anton says, picking a mushroom off his pizza slice and depositing it into his mouth. "Chris would never say that."
John shakes his head, using his perfected straight-man voice. "See, I take offense at your instantaneous dismissal of Ryan Seacrest's journalistic integrity. He strikes me as a trustworthy guy. I'm actually thinking about asking him to be my kid's godfather, but, you know. I'm kind of shy."
Naturally, Zach chose this evening as the night for their weekly pizza party. Zoe had instituted it as a means of getting Zach's mind off of things, namely Chris Pine and his beautiful fucking face, the one currently staring at him from the TV screen. And, of course, they're at her place this week, so he can't even go and hide under his own bed.
"Is Ryan Seacrest gay?" Anton asks. "Because he looks gay."
Zach puts his plate down and shuts his eyes. He kind of wants to pass out and vomit at the same time.
"You guys, didn't you hear what he said?" Zoe interrupts, waving a hand at the TV. "Chris said yes! I knew he would do it!" The look of glee on her face brings on another wave of nausea for Zach, and suddenly she's looking at him in concern, placing a hand on his forehead. "You okay, baby? You don't look well. You're kind of warm."
"Yeah, I...something in the pizza, maybe," Zach mumbles. Of course he feels warm. He's one step closer to the supernova that is Christopher Pine, preparing himself for the moment when he has to cross paths with all that heat. He feels like he's burning.
He goes home that night and lies in bed, catching the rerun of the broadcast. The warmth floods him again, but this time it's the memory of all the heat that radiated from Chris' body as it curled against him, between these very sheets. The cotton is cool to the touch now, stiff and unmarked. He's on his own now. So is Chris. Wherever he is.
The sound of thunder nearly tears him from his reverie. He sits up and looks out at the storm as it rages beyond his window. It's so loud, it feels almost apocalyptic.
Surprise, surprise
You're on your own
It's in your eyes
The loves you've known
And the ones you loved
You lost completely
"Zach, come on."
"No."
"Come on. Don't be like that."
Zach's shoulders stiffen as he takes a long sip of his tea. He's been trying to wean himself off his coffee habit, but it's not really working. The waitress comes by and asks if he'd like a refill on the hot water, and he sighs, shaking his head. "Lemme just get a cup of coffee instead," he says, and she nods, walking off. Karl laughs, stirring sugar into his own refilled cup.
"I knew it wouldn't last," he says. He picks up his burger and takes a hearty bite, smirking across the table at Zach, who stabs at his salad.
"It's because you're stressing me with this shit, Karl. You invite me out for lunch two weeks before we start shooting, tell me you're throwing a cast reunion party tomorrow night, and I'm supposed to be all...'Woohoo, partaaaay?'" He shakes his head, waving a hand. "Screw that."
Karl finishes chewing and swallows, licking his lips. "Well, why wouldn't you be? I throw pretty epic parties, mate. And everyone is going to be there."
"That's the problem," Zach says. He nods gratefully when the waitress brings him his coffee, dumping in a packet of Splenda and pouring in some of the regular milk. Karl arches in eyebrows in unbridled surprise and Zach shrugs. "They never have soy milk at this place."
"Now I've seen everything." Karl licks a spot of ketchup from the corner of his mouth and finishes his burger quickly, leaning back in his chair to adjust his trousers. He gives Zach a frank look after a whole minute goes by without any words exchanged. "Look, Quinto. I'll be straight with you."
"Makes a change," Zach murmurs from the rim of his cup.
"I'll ignore that, since I do think you should hear what I'm about to say, which is, my prissy little friend, that Chris wants to see you."
Zach's head jerks up at that, and he nearly spills his coffee all over himself. Which would suck, because he hasn't had any in ages and he needs it right now like he needs oxygen. "He...he does? But the...he moved, and his number changed, and..."
"He's still got the same number. His father just suspended his account while he was in rehab. And he moved because he didn't want the paparazzi bugging him about it after he got out." Karl's face screws up in both amusement and disbelief. "You think he was purposely trying to throw you off his trail? Christ, you're more self-absorbed than I thought, Quinto."
Zach glares at him, then, his lips pursed tight as a million thoughts and emotions ripple through him. It's probably a bad thing that he knows Chris still has his old number, considering he never got up the courage to delete it from his phone. He has half a mind to call him up right now and barrage his voicemail with weepy renditions of Neruda.
"I...I still can't," he finally says, weakly. He looks down into his cup and exhales. "You were right back then, Karl...I had him and I lost him because I never gave him what he needed. And he loved me so much, it was right there in his goddamn eyes, and I just...I pushed him too hard. I was afraid and I fucked him up. I did this to him, I can't—"
"The kid asks about you all the time, Zach." Karl's voice is stern but patient, and it snaps Zach to attention, urging him to adjust his glasses so he can watch the other man's face as he speaks. "He doesn't blame you for what happened to him. Even if the two of you were a goddamn ticking time bomb, it doesn't erase everything you went through, and all that you did for him. He's told me about it." He licks his lips, gathering his thoughts and lowering his voice, unable to meet Zach's stare. "I wanted to save him from you, you know...? I thought...god, this kid is so fucking young and bright and good, and this guy's just feeding off him, taking what he wants and..."
Karl trails off and Zach slumps down into his seat. Fucking Karl, making him remember this mediocre lunch forever. He shuts his eyes and whispers: "I thought he was going to die...that I'd lost him completely."
"But you didn't," Karl says. Zach opens his eyes again and the Kiwi is giving him one of his patented Duh, Zach looks. "So what are you mourning, exactly?"
Zach blinks owlishly, not knowing what to say to that. He's in the midst of trying to think of a snappy response when Karl spares him the effort and lightly kicks him under the table, muttering in a distinctly Bones-esque voice, "Eat your damn salad, Splenda Queen. Won't eat dairy but you're drinking a hot cup of cancer every day. Jesus fuckin' Christ."
Zach quirks a slight smile and does as he's told.
Louder, yeah, now it's getting louder
The noise is getting louder
The night is getting louder
And I can hear it
Stronger, and now you're going stronger
Yeah, now you're getting stronger
You're finally growing stronger
And I can feel it
The party turns out to be a rager, though a surprisingly dry one: Karl has instituted a policy of zero alcohol and drugs for the evening, in support of Chris. Zach considers his bottle of Diet Coke and wants to point out that Chris went to rehab for cocaine abuse, not alcohol, but he supposes it's the sacrifice that counts. Plus, he imagines the gesture will put one of those stunning smiles on Chris' face that he remembers so well, and that, right there, will surely be worth everyone's efforts.
Chris isn't here yet, though, and the wait is causing Zach's toes to tap impatiently against the floor, his fingers to pick and peel incessantly at the label on his bottle. Every time the door opens for a new guest, his breath quickens, only to calm again when it's someone decidedly not Chris. He nearly starts out of his seat when Clifton walks in, who just smirks and gives Zach a Vulcan salute. He returns it with a slightly embarrassed smile and then gets up to hug him properly. He makes a mental note to apologize later for any disappointment he might have given off when Clifton walked in.
Zach steals a spot against the back wall of the living room, propping himself up with his left foot. Zoe sidles up to him after a while, sipping from a can of ginger ale. "Hey, sexy," she says. She rubs his arm with a knowing smile. "You nervous?"
"I don't get nervous," Zach replies, trying to put on his best Spock—hell, even Sylar would do right now. Any character that scoffs at the feelings he's been dealing with for the past few months would be a pleasant change for his psyche.
"Yeah, right," Zoe smirks. "I know you used to be cool as a cucumber, honey, but face it: that boy changed you. And it's not a bad thing." She pokes the tip of his nose gently and then kisses him, a fleeting, friendly brush of lips. "I'm excited for you," she whispers. "It's a fresh start."
"That would be nice," he murmurs back. Nice, a benign word compared to the tangle of teenage angst he feels roiling in his gut. Nice will do for now.
Just then, the entire room seems to erupt into a round of cheers and they both turn their heads toward the front door. There's Chris, peering in and laughing at the warm welcome, and Karl immediately scoops him up into a bear hug. Zach thought he'd lose his breath completely when he first saw Chris, but he finds he's smiling fondly at the way everyone is so ridiculously happy to see him. The crowd that gathers around him for congratulatory embraces and kisses on the cheek is almost comical in both size and exuberance.
"I'm going to go say hi," Zoe says, squeezing Zach's wrist before skipping off. Zach just stays where he is, content for now to revel in the scene as an outsider. It doesn't last long, as John comes out of nowhere to place a glass of what looks to be champagne in his hand, winking as he explains, "Sparkling cider. We're doing a toast for Chris."
Zach nods as John flits away and directs his gaze to the front of the room where Karl is loudly—very loudly—clinking his glass with a fork and shouting for everyone to raise their own in honor of their "talented, brave, fucking awesome best friend and compatriot, Christopher Whitelaw Pine." Chris' cheeks glow with a dutiful blush as the kind words are bellowed, and when he looks up, it's directly at Zach, who feels utterly captivated by the strength of that superhuman gaze. The noise of the party grows exponentially louder around him.
Zach reminds himself to raise his glass. His answering "Cheers" is a mere whisper into the amplified din of the night.
So let yourself down tonight
Anywhere
I'll take you out tonight
Anywhere
Put on that dress you like
Anywhere
The one with birds on it
They're flying around
It's not ironic that Chris finds him on the balcony. He almost doesn't see Zach at first because he's pressed against the building façade. But, of course, he does find him. Zach wants to wince at the sight of him; he's too beautiful for words, and he looks stronger than he's ever been. How can Zach ever believe it doesn't have something to do with his absence? He has a sudden vision of the boy from the club, far less rugged and muscled than the man before him now, but just as illuminated. Blue Eyes. Abercrombie.
"Chris," he whispers. And then his throat feels too crowded to say anything else.
"Hey," he says, shifting awkwardly before holding up his glass. "You know what'd make this better? Rum."
Zach laughs suddenly. He could kiss Chris for piercing the silence with a joke. Hell, he could kiss him anyway. He wants to. "Don't look at me; it was all Karl's idea."
"I know. It's actually really sweet." Chris smiles faintly and nods to himself, looking at the glass again. "But still, a little buttered rum and this would be fucking ridiculous."
"Buttered rum with sparkling cider? You're crazy."
"Crazy like a fox." Chris leans back against the railing of the balcony without batting an eye and Zach has to smile. The guy really is brave, isn't he? Suddenly, Zach has to wonder what he's been so afraid of, this whole time. "So...two weeks to go until we're back in the saddle again. Ready for it?"
"I think so." Zach reaches up and absently touches one of his eyebrows. "Not so much the shaving again, but...I suffer for my art."
"Not to mention for fashion. Those jeans are at least two sizes too small, dude. They can see your junk from Mars."
Zach blinks and looks down at his crotch, fighting off a blush. "Well, if they're looking, they deserve what they get, i.e. an eyeful of Zach Quinto."
"We both know you're more than an eyeful," Chris murmurs.
They exchange smiles and when Chris' blossoms into a full-on grin, Zach feels short of breath, like he could bump against a rubber balloon and fall to pieces.
"Chris...I'm so fucking—"
"It's okay," Chris says, raising a hand to cut him off. The grin falls away and he shakes his head sorrowfully. "I should have called you to let you know I was okay. I mean...you fucking saved me, Zach. I was just confused and...ashamed." He sniffs and runs a hand back through his hair. "I wanted to convince myself that I didn't need you."
"You don't need me, Chris."
"Oh, don't give me that shit." He rolls his eyes and quirks a small smile. "You know we're two codependent bastards. If you'd driven us to fucking Kansas that night, I would have been fine with it. I'd follow you anywhere, Zach."
Me too, Zach almost says. But he knows that's not what Chris needs to hear. He licks his lips, a habit he probably picked up from him. "I wouldn't ask you to, Chris. I'll never make you follow in my footsteps again. That's not what's right for you."
"But what if I want to?" Chris whispers, and oh god, it's so hard to look away from those eyes. They've been gone for so long. He feels like Spock, coming face to face with twin stars, struggling to fight back all the emotions they elicit.
Zach forces himself to glance at the birds swooping across the sky, silhouettes against the setting California sun, blazing as it closes in on the horizon. It's like the end of the world out there, down where the sun is going, and he and Chris are right there with it.
Now, when you're short of breath
Go anywhere
And when your heart's in pieces
Anywhere
I'll take you out tonight
"Well, that's different," Zach says. He puts his glass down on the railing. "But not like the way it was."
"No," Chris whispers. "New start. Fresh start."
Chris reaches out and cups the back of Zach's neck, his fingertips warm like points of light against his skin, and their foreheads meet to rest against each other. Chris is so close to him now, all gold and soft edges against him, but there's no need to rush, no need to kiss him senseless or touch him all over, as much as he might want to and as much as Chris might expect it. Zach has to earn that now. He's willing to wait for what he wants, as long as he needs to. He'll do anything, go anywhere.
They stand there like that for who knows how long, the sun slipping behind buildings until it filters away, the thump of the music booming like an old friend from behind the wall, coming from a safe space where everyone loves them, a place where they're allowed to love each other.
"Should go back inside soon," Zach mumbles, centimeters from Chris' mouth. "All your admirers are awaiting your presence."
"I'll go if you go," Chris whispers teasingly. Zach adjusts Chris' tie and smiles to himself. He's always liked this one; it looks good with his complexion.
"I'll be there in a minute. Go on."
Chris parts himself from Zach then, offering him one last smile before taking his glass and heading back into the apartment. Zach turns to watch through the glass-pane doors as he's immediately inundated by the waiting horde of their friends, showered with their compassion and adulation. Chris has always had that affect on people, Zach knows. It used to make him jealous, but it's a different world now, and he finds he doesn't mind. He knows what he has and now that he's not afraid of it, he hopes Chris knows, too. There are a lot of scary things to be afraid of in life; love is the least of them. Sinking isn't so bad, either; the sun does it every night and always returns to rise again.
Zach skims his palm along the edge of the balcony, listening to the old, familiar sound of Chris' laughter. He curls his fingers tightly around the railing, enough to distinguish the beat of his pulse. He feels it flow, everywhere.
Previous: This Boy's in Love
