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Chris is still basking in the afterglow when Darren sighs deeply and presses his forehead against Chris’s shoulder. “We went about this the wrong way,” he mumbles, sounding far too forlorn for someone who came twice in the past hour.
Chris feels an immediate stab of pain – shock, hurt, a tiny bit of indigence because hello they just had sex (twice!) – but tamps it down in favour of getting Darren to clarify. “What do you mean?” he asks cautiously, careful of his tone.
“I mean we’ve been really stupid about this whole – thing. Us. As a couple.” Darren shuffles up a little so his head is on the pillow, too. Their noses are only inches apart, and Chris feels a wave of affection wash over him for the way Darren’s eyes shine, the way his skin glows. “We never should have broken up. That was dumb. We were dumb.”
“We thought we were doing what was best at the time,” Chris says. “For us, for our careers…”
“I don’t know, man. I think we were just scared. Well, I was scared.”
Chris reaches over to run his fingers gently through Darren’s hair, sweeping his thumb over Darren’s temple. “What were you scared of?”
“You.”
“Me?” he scoffs.
“Yes, you.” Darren leans forward to press a quick kiss to his lips. “You have no idea, Chris. How do I even explain it? It’s like… I’ve loved a lot of people. I’ve been in serious, committed relationships. I thought I had a pretty good handle on the whole ‘being in love’ thing. But then you come along,” he shakes his head, “and it’s like everything clicked. A piece of me fell into place. Don’t laugh!”
Chris is grinning widely. “Are you saying I’m your missing puzzle piece, Darren? Is that what you’re saying?”
“Shut up! You’re such an asshole,” he laughs, mock-offended. “No, it’s more than that. Everything was just so easy with you. You fit into my life perfectly. And I think I fit into yours. And suddenly all I could see was you. All I could think, all I could feel was you. And you felt so… inevitable, to me. Like no matter how long we put it off,” his gaze has turned serious, imploring, “eventually, there’d be an us. You and me. Do you get what I’m saying?”
Chris nods, slowly. “Yeah. I think I do.” He pauses, ducking his head. “It was different for me,” he says quietly. “I was 21 when we met. I’d never been in love. I’d barely gotten used to having friends. And then you – do you have any idea what that was like for me? After years of no expectations, of not even allowing myself to hope, I fall for someone like you? Jesus, Darren.”
Darren smiles a little bashfully, equal parts apologetic and teasing. “I can be overwhelming, I know.”
Chris scrunches up his nose at him. “Yes, you can. In the best way,” he reassures. “It’s just, for someone like me, what I felt – what I feel for you is scary. It’s intense and passionate and ridiculous and I wasn’t ready to deal with it back then. It was too good to be true. I guess I thought it was smarter to break it off early, so I could keep the memories and the awesome friendship and spare myself the heartbreak.” He pauses, laughs disbelievingly. “I can’t believe I just told you all that.”
“Shhh,” Darren soothes. “We’re working through our issues, communicating, helping us to understand each other better. This is a good thing!” He smiles, a soft, sweet smile that makes Chris feel helplessly, hopelessly adored. “Have I told you I love you lately?”
“Mm, not that I can recall,” Chris replies airily, but his fingers tighten in Darren’s hair, pulling him closer.
“Well, I love you.”
“I know.”
Darren narrows his eyes, pokes at Chris’s belly. “You love me, too.”
Chris can’t help but laugh. “Yes, dummy. I love you, too.”
*
Darren is just starting to doze off, head pillowed on Chris’s chest, when Chris says, “Come with me.”
His voice is soft, but the words are unmistakable. Darren lifts his head, shifting a little so he’s facing Chris. He knows he’s gaping, but he can’t believe what he’s hearing. “To London?”
Chris nods, a fond smile playing around his lips. “To London. And then to Paris. Or somewhere in Italy – I’m not that picky, and it’s not like my French is any better than my Italian, anyway.” When Darren doesn’t respond, his smile drops a little. “I know it’s asking a lot, and it’s stupid of me to expect you to up and drop everything just to-”
“Yes,” Darren interrupts. “I- yes.”
Hope alights all over Chris’s features. “Really?”
Darren nods enthusiastically. “Yeah. I can write music anywhere, man. And I’m 100% on board with waking up next to you every morning. Definitely beats the whole long distance thing.”
“Next to me,” Chris muses, his grip on Darren’s waist tightening. “I like the sound of that.”
“Me too.”
*
In the end, Chris gets on the plane.
(So does Darren.)