Work Text:
The first time they sleep together after the break up - it's how he's calling it in his head now - Darren cries.
It's stupid and embarrassing and it makes him feel so goddamn needy and childish but- God. It was bad. It was so bad Darren spent three hours on the phone with his brother, trying so hard to get his sobs under control and spitting everything out to him with a voice that didn't even sound like his own.
"I lost him, Chuck. I lost him for good. It's- this time it's- he's fucking gone, he- he's probably going back to that stupid little-"
Just the mere thought of that night still brings chills to his bones. They both yelled and cried and said things they didn't mean, things Darren wishes so badly he could take back. Chris wanted more than what Darren was able to give him- ("I can't keep doing this every night, Darren. I can't keep on being afraid of opening my twitter because there might be a picture of you two kissing somewhere in there. I can't resent going to see you on the show because she will be there too. I just. Can't.") and Darren understood more than Chris would possibly believe.
Darren had tried to hold him after his confession. It was the very first time Chris admitted to it out loud, his discomfort around her, but Darren knew it was coming. He tried to hold him but Chris turned away, refusing to be touched- and that was when Darren knew it was so, so bad. That wasn't just Chris picking up a fight because he was stressed over work. No, that was Chris building up his walls all over again and pushing Darren away with a single icy-cold glare.
Chris left the apartment that night and didn't come back for an entire week. Then, after Darren came back home from another show, exhausted and kind of miserable, he found Chris' key on the kitchen's table. For a second he thought he was back and flew to the bedroom, heart fluttering anxiously on his chest, but once he got there he saw that Chris' stuff were all gone. It felt like being punched right in the gut.
He called. He called so many fucking times, but Chris never answered.
Except for one night.
He didn't even need to say he was horribly drunk - Darren could tell just by the way he sloppily answered, "Hello?"
Heart on his throat, he swallowed down the shriek of surprise and relief (and disbelief) he almost made. "Oh- Hi. Chris. Hi."
"...Darren?" His voice sounded far away, tired and surprised. "Why are you calling me?"
"Um, I just." Why am I calling you? "Just needed to know if you're alright? How are you doing?"
Chris let out a humorless laugh. "Just wonderful."
He felt a pang on his chest, the sensation of being punched coming back in full force. Before he could think about the words his brain was forming, he was blurting out, "I miss you."
Silence. He could hear Chris' muffled breathing and the sound of his own heartbeat. "No, shut up. Shut the fuck up."
"Wha-"
"You don't get to do that. You don't get to call me at two in the morning to ask how I am and tell me you miss me."
"Chris-"
"No, you listen to me. I'm a fucking wreck. Do you have any idea of how much this fucking hurts?" His voice cracks and Darren- well, Darren wishes. He wishes so many things at once, he wishes them so fervently. "I love you so much it fucking hurts."
And that was what made Darren's heart shatter for good. "Fuck, Chris. Where are you? Let me come over. Please? We can talk, I-"
"Talk about what, Darren? What's the point?"
"We can-"
"No, we can't. It's done, isn't it? You made your choice."
"Fu- I didn't, Chris! I didn't make any choice because you never gave me the fucking chance."
He heard a sob. Chris must have been so damn wasted if he wasn't even trying to hide it... Then all he heard was silence and he realized Chris had hung up. He was about to impulsively call again when he got a text.
It was an address.
He grabbed his keys and ran.
*
Chris was staying at a hotel they went to many times before, so the lady at the reception let Darren in without any problems. He was so grateful that he grabbed her hands tightly between both of his and thanked her at least five times.
He knocked. Once, twice, three times.
When Chris opened the door, Darren's heart fell to the floor.
He looked miserable. Red, puffy eyes, messy hair and wrinkled clothes. He tried to touch him but Chris hold up a finger and very, very weakly said, "wait," running towards the bathroom.
Darren waited outside while Chris emptied his stomach. He wanted nothing more than to just go in and help him, or at least just stand by Chris's side and rub his back to try and make him feel a tiny bit better, but he knew it wouldn't be welcomed at all. So he patiently sat on the bed waited.
*
Chris came out of the bathroom looking slightly better -- hair a little less messy, but eyes just as red and tired as before. He hugged himself as he stood there, looking helpless and sad and hopeless.
Chris was the one who spoke first. "I don't know why I wanted you to come. This is making it worse."
And okay, ouch. "Chris-" he stood up, trying so damn hard to find the right words, but as soon as he did Chris flew back to the bathroom, a hand covering his mouth. This time, Darren followed.
He grabbed a towel and hesitantly rubbed Chris's back as he emptied his stomach again. And it hurt. It hurt so much to see him like that.
"Man, how much did you have to drink?"
Chris looked up at him and his heart stopped. There were tears in those eyes and he just- he couldn't, he couldn't look at him and not touch, especially when he was like that. So he reached out, fixing the sweaty hair sticking to Chris's forehead, fingers tentatively moving down his face to cup his jaw and then his neck, and Chris was- burning up. He was burning up.
"Oh, bab-" he coughed, "um, I think you have a fever."
Chris groaned, blinking fast as if to not let the tears fall. "I figured. Feels really bad."
"Let's get you to bed and go check your temperature, alright?"
"But you-"
"Shhh," he fixed Chris's hair again. "Come on."
*
Chris did have a fever. A really bad one. So Darren tuck him under the covers and took care of him and gave him medicine and a light squeeze to his hand.
He thought Chris was asleep so he turned to leave, but was suddenly stopped by a hand on his wrist. Voice weak and sleepy, Chris whispered, "Stay?"
"R-really?" Darren stuttered embarrassingly, mouth hanging open.
Chris simply nodded.
"Okay."
*
Darren was checking Chris's temperature again when he asked, "do you want me to take the sofa? Or-"
Chris just gave him a blunt look and shook his head. "Darren. No."
*
The first time they only slept together after the break up, Darren didn't cry. But he wanted to. God, he wanted to.
Chris was always beautiful, but there was something so absurdly peaceful about his sleeping form that never failed to take the breath right out of Darren's lungs. He felt creepy as fuck, but still, he watched -- the person he loved so damn much, his Chris, his love, the one person he would do absolutely anything in the whole damn world for. The one person he managed to lose.
He tried to sleep, but it was pointless.
*
He found the piano and sat down. He didn't want to wake Chris up so he started playing very quietly, so quietly he almost couldn't hear himself. He didn't even think about what he was playing before his fingers started creating the melody of one classic song he learned a very long time ago- a prologue. One of his favorites; more because of the story behind the song than because of the music itself.
There was an ancient legend in which a cathedral, submerged underwater, rose up from the sea on mornings when the water was clear. People from across the sea could hear the sounds of priests chanting, the organs playing, the bells chiming... Accordingly, the song started just like church bells making noise from the distance -- quietly, pianissimo (he could almost hear the sound of his brother's voice saying it), then the ascending scales representing the cathedral's slow emergence from the water.
Then it turned louder, the song finally bringing the church out of the water, though Darren didn't raise the volume too much. Loud, loud, loud, then quiet again. The church sinking back into the ocean, the song slowing down, only the bells ringing from underwater again. Then, complete silence. Gone from sight, completely submerged again.
The idea of a sinking cathedral and the melody of the song felt a lot like the feeling gnawing on Darren's heart.
"That's beautiful."
He jumped and pressed his fingers on the piano keys involuntarily, making an obnoxiously loud and dissonant sound.
"Jesus. You scared me."
Chris was wearing the hotel's robe and looking exhausted, but better than how he looked before. He tilted his head and made his way over to sit next to Darren.
"Sorry, I didn't mean to. I was gonna go back to sleep but then I... I heard you."
"Shit, I didn't mean to wake you. You should- you should go back to bed. How's that fever? Are you feeling better?"
Darren touched Chris's cheek to feel his temperature. It was still really warm. His fingers shook against Chris's flesh.
"Yeah, I'm fine. Or I will be, I don't know." He sighed, looking down to his hands. "But um, I mean it. That was really beautiful. Felt a lot like... Drowning."
Darren smiled. He always gets it. "Exactly."
Chris looked up at him and took in a deep breath. But before he could start talking, Darren found his gaze and started first. "That's all acting, Chris. You know that, you- you have to know that. I'm doing what they tell me to do. I hate it, I fucking hate it, but-" he drew in a sharp breath, forcing the tears not to fall. "That's all fake."
Chris's voice was small and wrecked as he looked down and answered, "it doesn't make it any easier to watch."
Something inside of Darren snapped at that. He used one hand to grab Chris's and the other to cup his face, making him look right into his eyes before he said, "you know what I can't fake?"
Chris shook his head, eyes big and scared and full of tears. He squeezed Chris's hand and placed it on his own his heart. Darren knew he would feel how rapidly it was beating - in fact, he was almost afraid it would beat right out of his chest and directly into Chris's shaking hands. "This."
Chris let out a shaky breath.
"Whenever I'm near you, Chris. Every damn time. Since the first time I saw you, from the night we went to that freaking concert until today, I... I'm still as fucked up over you as I was then." Choking up, he leaned forward and ran his thumb under Chris's left eye. "That," he pressed Chris's hand tighter against his chest, "is how I get when I'm with you. That's what you do to me, and that's something I can't fake."
Chris was looking at him with desperation in his eyes, fingers gripping Darren's shirt tightly. And out of all the things he could have said, what came out of his mouth was a shaky, teary, "you're a sap."
Darren laughed. He honestly, genuinely laughed, head thrown back and eyes screwed shut, like he hasn't laughed in a while.
"Way to ruin the moment, Colfer."
"But you are." He was still crying though, his voice weak and a hand still pressed against Darren's heart. He looked right into Darren's eyes. "I don't know what to tell you."
"You- you don't need to tell me anything. I just needed to let it out, I guess."
But then there was a squeeze to his hand and Chris was whispering, "I don't want to not be with you anymore."
Darren smiled, and Chris started to laugh when he felt Darren's heartbeat fasten against his palm. "That's strangely adorable."
"You still think I'm adorable." He grinned and brought Chris's face closer, noses brushing, foreheads touching, breaths mingling.
"Shut up, you idiot."
And then they kissed and, just like that, everything was right in the world again.
*
When they're done, when he pulls out of Chris and tosses the condom away and curls into his side, Darren cries.
He cries over what he almost lost, over the things he can't change just yet, over the ways he hurt his love. He cries tears of happiness, of fear, of regrets. He cries and clings to Chris and cries some more and tries to hide it and fails.
"Hey, hey," Chris turns on the bed and grabs Darren's face, brushing away the worst of the tears. "Was the sex that bad? Because we can keep practicing, I mean-"
Darren slaps his arm and lets out a wet giggle. "Shut up."
Lips curling into a sad smile, Chris uses a hand on Darren's neck to bring him closer. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing's wrong. Everything is so far from being wrong."
"Then please don't cry." He presses a kiss under Darren's left eye, then under the right one. "I hate seeing you cry."
"I'm sorry, it's just-" he intertwines his fingers with Chris's and brings their joined hands to his lips, pressing a small kiss against each of his knuckles. "This, I- I thought I'd never have this again. I though I had lost you for good, Chris. I was- I was so fucking scared."
Chris's gaze softens and he nods - understanding, agreeing.
"I was scared too." He bites his bottom lip and looks down. "Everything inside me hurt. I never thought it was possible to feel like that."
Darren's vision gets blurry again and he kisses Chris as more tears well up. "Please don't leave again."
In between kisses, he whispers, "I won't."
And they stay like that for what feels like hours - exchanging slow kisses and sweet words and muffled promises, Chris kissing Darren's tears away and carefully bringing his pieces back together. It feels like another beginning, a second chance to something even better and bigger than before.
It feels like the start of a new life.