I lied. This is the end. You people were killing me. In a good way of course. Um. It's not like...a definite ending or anything, but I figured it's the best resolution that I could create for this here thingy. It's even pretty angst-less. I'm so proud of myself. Anyway, it's really short but here it is. Have at it.
Disclaimer: Not mine. No matter how much I wish.
"Chris!" My body jolted to attention. It was dark, pitch black with not even a vague outline of the surroundings. Widening my eyes did nothing to enhance the view. The racing of my heart was overpowering, a reminder of the fear that had thrown me from unconsciousness. The dream. It had been a dream right? Damn it, why was it so dark? I opened and closed my eyes a few times. Nothing. Not a freaking thing. Why the hell couldn't I—Oh. Soft, plushy material brushed against my fingertips. A sleeping mask. The one Chris had forced on me to "improve my sleep". Right.
The lack of mask didn't change the view much, but the faint outline of the items strewn across my room eased my panic. But…Chris? The details were vague, just out of reach but the fear was still prominent and annoyingly persistent. Something to do with him. For the life of me I couldn't remember and maybe it was better that I didn't since it had sent me flying up and awake with his name dying on my lips. And there was the panic again. Something that told me to find him, to protect him, to make sure he was okay. And then there was part of me that didn't want to look, some part that worried that this time, my search would come up empty. That this time he would be gone and I would be lost.
"There are...just too many...too many…monkeys!" The scream startled me, to say the least. The warm body next to me was finally brought to my attention. God, he was precious. Even beneath the shadow of darkness splayed across his form, the curves of his face were identifiable and eye-catching. Plump, pink lips quivered under my gaze, eyes moving furiously beneath the nearly translucent pale eyelids. A whimper.
"Chris?" The whisper was barely audible against the shell of his ear. It was never good to wake him mid-dream. At least he wasn't sleep walking. "You're safe." A tiny exhale then the pointed, upturned turned nose found the crook of my neck. The angelic features relaxed visibly, even from my skewed vision.
"Darren." It was so soft I nearly didn't hear it. But it was there, heavy and light at the same time, brushing against my skin, against my heart. The heart that beat so hard I was sure it would wake him. "Love you." The breath caught in my throat.
"I love you too." It seemed to appease the sleeping boy. Somehow he ended up half on top of me, his face pressed into my neck and his hands rested on my chest. The skin of his chest burned into my own. He set me ablaze. Set me on fire like no one ever had.
It wasn't easy or simple. It was complicated and difficult and I screwed things up so often it still shocked me every time he let me back in, but in a way it was. It was so fucking simple it drove me crazy and made me wonder how I could ever be so stupid. Why I could ever find anything to question. We weren't dating, not really. But I didn't date and neither did he. There was no talk of the future or what it might bring, no talk of labels, no questions. Kisses took the place of nights of hot and sweaty, but regretted sex. Whispers and light touches took the place of dirty talk and the awkward morning after. There was cuddling and handholding and cheesy movies that no two men should ever watch as "just friends". There were odd looks and questioning glances. And there was love. So much love, that terms weren't needed. We were "Chris and Darren". Nothing else really mattered. Someday we would sit down and talk about it, someday a line would be crossed, an irreversible line that would define us and what we were and what we could be. We weren't perfect, but at that moment, with Chris' light breath brushing over my skin, with his smooth skin on mine, we just were. And that was enough.
Fin. Seriously this time. Review? Oh, and alert me of mistakes, I'm not the best at catching them.