You want me, well fucking well come and find me
Chris/Darren, R. Pretty angsty, whoops.
Darren opens the door when Chris shows up.
They don’t really talk.
They don’t talk much at all anymore. Not face to face. That’s not how it works.
They walk to the bedroom. Hard kisses, bruising touches. They fuck with too little lube and too much feeling all contained inside. The words that escape are accidental and they pay the price for them later.
Afterward Chris gets up first. He showers, he dresses, he walks out the door.
Darren doesn’t know where he’s going. He’s not allowed to ask. Sometimes he does anyway.
Chris gets mad when he asks too much.
This time he doesn’t ask. He just lays in the bed, feeling the come trickle out of him, feeling the sweat cool and grow disgusting on his skin.
He hears the door shut and his body grows tight all over, ache in his abs and in his ass and in his heart.
Everyone else - all those assholes making judgement calls, they all think they know how this works. They think Darren’s the one with the brakes on.
It’s not like either of them can tell anyone they’re wrong. Correction is acknowledgement, and they don’t do that. Smile for the cameras, cozy up to the right people.
They’re not the right people for each other.
(But they could be.)
Darren’s ready to be.
He’s just waiting for Chris to come and find him.