Shine

It had been three years since he had last set foot in this building, three long years filled with endless days, intense training, and pain-staking sacrifices, but he was finally ready. All his hard work was about to pay off.

I'm not ready for this he thought as he stared at the metal doors before him, the entrance to what would essentially be his big shot, his one final chance to prove himself. His sweaty palms laid against the fabric of his white button-down shirt. Three years, and what had changed? Could he really have changed enough to make a difference?

It was not unusual for him to doubt himself, he had been doing it his entire life. In fact, the only thing he felt confident in was his ability to doubt every little thing he ever did. In a way it was good, in that it made him strive to be the best he could be, but it also meant that he would never be good enough for anything or anyone.

“Excuse me, sir, do you intend on standing there all day, or are you actually going to open the doors? Because there are some of us who...” the man's voice trailed off as he turned around to see who was talking to him. For a few seconds they both stood, wordlessly, and stared at each other, then the man regained some of his consciousness. “...need to get to work.”

He tried to think of what to say in response, but he couldn't think of anything, so he just stood off to the side to let the man through. The man stepped forward, but stopped beside him and looked him right in the eyes.

“What are you doing here?” His tone was much friendlier than it had been, and he sounded concerned, even. “Are you here for...?”

“Yeah,” he said, nodding his head a little.

“Wow. Well, good luck.” The man placed a hand on his arm and grinned at him. He smiled back, though he faltered because of his nerves. The man seemed to sense this. “You'll get it, don't worry.”

“You said the same thing last time,” he replied with a condescending laugh. His hand was still on his shirt, as if the sweat had acted as some sort of glue and the two surfaces were now permanently stuck together.

“Well, I mean, I never said when you'd get it,” the man said, and he winked before leaving through the scary metal doors. The doors seemed to have closed, but seconds later they popped open again. “Oh, and Chris,” the man added, “you should come see me when it's over. My office is on the third-”

“-third floor,” Chris interjected, and he smiled kindly. “I know.”

The man held the door open for another moment, his expression blank, then once again disappeared from sight. Chris remained where he was standing, still trying to gather his confidence. As he stared at the pavement below his feet, he noticed a spider crawling along. A shiver ran down his back; even hearing the word 'spider' freaked him out. It had just always been that way.

A few more people entered the building, smiling at him as they went (though he could tell they were judging him on the inside), and Chris finally decided that he wasn't going to make any more progress than he already had, and he too made his way into the place that represented everything his future could, and hopefully would, be.

The building was overly air conditioned, and Chris was glad that he had worn a long-sleeved shirt. His thin body didn't allow for a lot of heat to be held, and so any further cooling systems made him shiver as if he was standing waist-deep in snow wearing nothing but a t-shirt and some threadbare pants. As he walked past some of the doors to different offices, he noticed his reflection in the tiny windows. He wished he had gone ahead and gotten a haircut like he was going to, but of course there was nothing he could do about it now. He would just have to deal with it. But then, if that ended up being the deciding factor for these people, he was going to completely flip out at himself for being such an idiot. Why the hell didn't he just get that haircut?

Even though it wasn't a good idea, since he was still walking down the hallway, Chris buried his head in his hands. Sighing in frustration, he thought Stop doing this! You haven't even seen these people yet, you don't know what they'll think of you. Maybe they'll like your hair the way it is... Or maybe they'll hate it and think you look stupid.

His feet stopped moving without him even noticing. For minutes he stood still, head in hands, and fought a bloody internal battle against his indecisive mind. Had he not spent all that time working towards this? He couldn't give up now, just because maybe someone would disapprove. But if they did disapprove, then what was the point of the past three years of his life?

He felt a hand on his shoulder, and it took all he had in him not to jump and scream. Luckily, to help, a woman's voice spoke to him calmly and peacefully.

“Excuse me, do you need some help?” she asked him. He slowly looked up at her and shook his head.

“Sorry, I'm just... having a breakdown,” he said. He dropped his hands to his side and flashed her a halfhearted smile. “I'm here to audition, so...”

The woman's face seemed to brighten a little at the thought of actually being able to assist him in some way. “Oh! Let me bring you to the waiting area then, you can break down there.” She gave a lighthearted laugh, and it somehow managed to make him feel a bit better. It was a really nice laugh she had. Her smile was nice, too.

She brought him to a room not too far from where he had stopped. There were quite a lot of other men in there, and as his eyes scanned the room he couldn't find one that he thought he was better than. They all seemed to be thinner, more toned, and just generally more handsome than he was. He almost wanted to cry.

He took a seat somewhere in the middle of the room and stared at the man beside him. This man's face was completely smooth, blemish-free, and very tan. Chris was pasty, he had a mole on his cheek and one on his upper lip, and he thought he could already feel his facial hair growing back. There was no way he would ever make it.

“What's your name?” the man asked in a sort of bark, his head faced down and eyes pointed at the clipboard in front of him.

“C-Chris. Uh, Chris Martin.” At the sound of Chris's nervousness the man looked up and narrowed his eyes. Then he went back to his clipboard and made a mark.

“How old are you, Chris?”

“Twenty,” Chris replied, trying to make his voice sound stronger. The man marked something else, then turned to the woman at his side. He whispered a few things to her, and she nodded, then stood up and walked over to Chris.

“Take off your shirt,” she commanded, her tone dull and lifeless. Chris felt a little uncomfortable at the request, but he knew it was just what he had to do. And he had promised himself long ago that he would do whatever it took to achieve his dreams. If that meant walking around shirtless- or for that matter, completely without clothes- then he would just have to suck it up and do it with as much confidence as he could.

The woman took the heap of fabric from him once he had removed it, and she stood off to the side of the room. The man looked up at him again, and Chris could feel the man's eyes roaming over his body, judging him. But that's what he was there for- to be judged. Still, he couldn't help feeling a little inferior.

Chris realized that he had begun to slouch a bit in an attempt to hide in himself, and so he quickly straightened his back and puffed out his chest. Then he realized that he had probably exaggerated the move far too much, and was now coming off as some sort of arrogant juvenile. He really just wanted to put his shirt back on and go home.

“Turn to your right, kid,” the man ordered, and Chris did as he said. Though he could no longer see the man's harsh expressions, his mind gladly showed him depictions of what they looked like. When he turned to his left he saw the woman holding his shirt. It looked like she was stroking it as it lay in her arms, and for a brief moment Chris enjoyed the ability to judge someone else like everyone did to him.

Chris was pulled forward again by the man, who was now standing right in front of Chris with his hands on either of Chris's arms. The man closely examined Chris's bare abdomen and chest, then pushed Chris's chin and made him tilt his head in various directions. Chris let the man do whatever he pleased.

“What do you think, Maureen?” the man asked, facing the woman. Chris still had his chin in the air. “He's at least tall enough. Six two?”

“Yeah, tall enough,” Maureen replied with disinterest. “Can we get this shirt back on the kid? It's white, but he'd be far less blinding with it on.”

“You are pretty pale,” the man said to Chris in a low voice. Chris felt like his heart dropped into his stomach and his eyes threatened to water. He knew he wasn't going to be good enough. Why did he even put himself through all of this?

But he remained silent, because if there was at least one thing he could control, it was what they thought of him based on his words. If he didn't say anything, then there was no way for him to say anything stupid, and therefore no way for them to dislike him because of that.

A few minutes later the man said, “All right, Chris, we're done with you,” and Chris was given back his shirt, but not given much time to put it back on. Only half the buttons were done by the time he was back in the waiting room. To avoid any attention, especially negative attention, Chris held the open part of his shirt closed with his hand and quickly made his way out of the room and towards the nearest elevators. There was no one on the elevator when the doors opened, and so in the solitude of the moving box he fixed his shirt properly.

Not long after, the elevator stopped again and Chris stepped out onto the third floor. It was almost exactly as he had remembered it, though it looked like it had been touched up in a few spots. If it really was the same, then he knew right where the office he was looking for would be.

He had always referred to it as an office, at least in his own mind. In actuality it was just a small cubicle with barely enough room for one person, let alone two fully grown men. But calling it an office made him feel like at least one of them had done something with their lives.

The man who had greeted Chris outside the building earlier that morning was at his computer, typing away with his eyes fixed firmly on the screen. Chris stood next to him for a few minutes, smiling to himself. He could hardly believe it had already been three years. Everything still felt the same, though.

“Jonny, you're at work, stop looking at porn,” Chris said, very loudly. Jonny stopped typing and slowly spun around. Chris stared at him, laughing, and his laughter only intensified as Jonny tried to shove his finger into Chris's stomach. He wasn't very successful, though, because Chris had a lot more muscle now than he had three years ago.

“You've been working out, then,” Jonny said pensively. “I thought you looked a hell of a lot less lanky than before.”

“I do seventy-five crunches a day,” Chris said impressively, and he leaned against the wall of the cubicle and folded his arms across his chest. His sleeves were rolled up now; it was much hotter in the building than it had been earlier.

“I think that's more than I've done in my entire life,” Jonny quietly said, and as Chris laughed he quickly turned back to his computer. He moved the mouse so that the start bar popped up at the bottom of the screen. “It's eleven-thirty... close enough. Wanna go get some lunch?”

“Yeah,” Chris said, and he smiled yet again.

Jonny sat with his legs hanging over the rock wall of the garden outside the building he worked at, a small tray resting in his lap. Chris was next to him, cross-legged and facing Jonny, and in front of him was an overloaded plate of salad. He had already eaten half of it, but the lettuce was still threatening to fall off the sides of the plate.

“So, how'd your thing go?” Jonny asked, his mouth partially full with the sandwich he had just stuffed into it. He swallowed, then almost immediately took another bite.

“It was... all right,” Chris said, stabbing his fork into an innocent piece of iceberg lettuce. He held the fork up and let it dangle limply from his fingers for a while. “Apparently I'm tall enough. But they also told me I was really pale.”

“Well, you are, Vampire.” Chris smiled. He had forgotten about that little nickname that Jonny had given him in high school. He was actually a bit surprised that Jonny had remembered.

“At least I've been trying to tan.” After deciding that he'd had enough of the sight of it, Chris finally ate the salad stuck to his fork. He frowned at Jonny, both dissatisfied by his food and the complexion of his skin.

“Maybe if you didn't wear all those long-sleeved shirts all the time, you could actually get some sun,” Jonny said, flicking the cuff of Chris's shirt.

“I get cold!!” Chris defensively replied, pulling his arms back and letting his fork fall and disappear into the massive lettuce monster below. “It's not my fault.”

“Cold? When it's eighty degrees out?” Jonny turn to Chris and raised an eyebrow skeptically. Chris continued to frown, but Jonny could tell by his sad expression that now Chris was going into one of his overly self-critical modes. “Hey, man, whatever. People are different. Being pale's not a bad thing.”

Jonny smiled, and Chris almost instantly felt a little better. “OK,” he mumbled, and with the way he went back to his previous position, he appeared to have let his troubles go. But he could never really let them go.

“When will you know if they picked you?” Jonny asked nonchalantly, returning to his tasty sandwich. Chris looked up at him and waited a bit to answer.

“I don't know,” he said. As he watched Jonny eating, he felt this thing return to him that he had only vaguely been aware of before. But now it came on stronger, and he knew that even after three years he still felt the same. “I guess whenever they decide to call me... if they call me. I suspect they won't bother if they don't want me.”

“Chin up, Chris, it'll happen.” Jonny gripped his hand reassuringly around one of Chris's ankles, and Chris suddenly lost his appetite. He decided that he'd had enough to eat, anyway.

Jonny took his hand back, and neither said another word for quite some time. While Chris was in the middle of staring at Jonny, deeply submerged in a vast ocean of his own thoughts, the front pocket of his jeans started to ring.

“Hello?” he said into his cellphone. A man's voice answered, muffled as the phone was shoved up against Chris's ear. Jonny looked up and saw as Chris's face blanked, his eyes a tad wide and his mouth slightly open. After a few moments he blinked, and said, “Yeah, two minutes. Great!”

Chris slammed his phone shut and stuffed it back into his pocket as he jumped up. Jonny watched him the entire time, and as he spun he noticed Jonny's expectant expression.

“Could you take care of that for me?” Chris asked him, pointing to the neglected salad. “I have to go back in.. they just called me!”

Chris's good mood and excitement was obvious from about a mile away. Jonny smiled, nodded, and said, “See? It worked out fine.” Chris wanted to respond somehow, but he couldn't think of anything appropriate at first, and he realized that he needed to get inside as soon as possible.

Chris bolted up the stairs to the entrance, but he paused once he reached the top. He stopped, turned around, and flashed one more quick enthusiastic smile at Jonny, then ran through the doors.

Could this really be it? After three years of hard training, which had only been brought on by the huge disappointment he'd faced three years earlier, and after what was almost an entire lifetime of wanting to be a model, was he finally there? The cold air hit him from the vents in the ceiling, but the excitement bubbling inside of him was plenty enough to keep him warm. It seemed like the hallway was never-ending, and he worried that by the time he would reach the room he would be too late.

But he wasn't too late, and as he walked in he saw that there were only a handful of men left. His only competition. He was definitely relieved to see as he sat down that the man whose perfect visage he had envied before was gone. It just reinforced his belief that he should never listen to himself, even though he could never actually practice that belief.

He and the other men waited in the room for what seemed like at least an hour before anyone came in to tell them what was going on. The door to the audition room opened and the woman Chris remembered as Maureen stepped out.

“All right,” she immediately began, before she was even completely in the room. “You...” she quickly looked up at the men, “...six have been called back because we think that you are the best, or at least most qualified, for the positions. As I assume you know, there are only four spots available. As you may also have noticed, we work very quickly. If you have a problem with that, I suggest you leave now.” Her harsh eyes scanned the room, and all the men simply stared right back at her. “Good,” she said, a few moments later. “If you'll follow me, we can continue.”

She turned back and walked through the door she had entered from. The men stood up and trailed behind her, and Chris, hoping that it wasn't some sort of sign, was the last one to leave the waiting room.

Chris had been staggered, though ultimately very grateful, to find that he was in fact one of the four chosen for the job. After two weeks of working with the man who he later discovered to be called Mysterium, though, Chris realized that his job was much tougher than he had expected, which was saying a lot. He knew that he would be constantly under massive amounts of pressure, and he had trained himself to deal with that. Or so he had thought.

But it seemed as though every day there was something he did wrong, something he was far from perfect with, and every day he went home wishing that he could just be better. Was it really that much to ask for?

Eventually it drove him to one day sit in solitude in the bathroom for an extended period of time, crying nonstop. He even felt stupid for crying.

Suddenly, the door opened, and a pair of legs walked in. At least, all Chris could see was the man's legs, though he knew who they belonged to right away. Still, he kept his head buried in his hands, his knees pressed up against his chest.

“Chris, what's wrong?” Jonny was beside him in an instant, a friendly hand stretched out to grab Chris's shoulder. He was a little too close for Chris's comfort, though he couldn't say he didn't like it. Chris didn't answer at first, or even look up, he just shook his head.

“A-Ask me what's right,” he stuttered through sniffles, “it's a m-much shorter list.”

Jonny could see that his friend was in need of some major self-esteem boosting, and he thought he knew what to do; it was certainly not the first time Chris had acted like this.

“Fine. What's right, then?” he asked in his clever tone. He finally got Chris to look up at him with that one, though Chris's bloodshot eyes were narrowed at him.

“Well...” Chris stared off into space, his lips pursed, thinking. Jonny patiently waited, his hand still on Chris's back. “There you go.”

Jonny, in spite of the situation, smiled, and Chris furrowed his eyebrows and looked confused. When he caught sight of Chris's expression, he dropped the smile and tried to imitate Chris. He knew it wouldn't take long to work. Then, five seconds later, the corners of Chris's mouth twitched, and he quickly turned his head and covered his mouth with his hand. Jonny smiled again.

“Oh, look at that,” he said, smugly, and Chris hit him on the arm with his free hand.

“Jerk,” Chris mumbled through his hand, and Jonny smiled wider.

“Come here, you dunce,” Jonny said, and he wrapped his other arm around Chris's front and pulled Chris's head to his chest, something that made Chris feel both better and worse at the same time. But he kept his head resting there, because he didn't want to appear suspicious, and also because he really did like it, no matter what his conflicting emotions were telling him.

Jonny had done the same thing every time that Chris was like this, ever since they were both fifteen and Jonny had found this scrawny kid quietly moaning about his life on the curb near Jonny's house. It was something about Jonny's bluntness, and his readiness to insult an already self-deprecating boy he had only just met, that made Chris take a liking to him. Of course, he took far more of a liking to Jonny than he had expected.

But that first time that Jonny had embraced him was the first time that he ever felt like anything- even the smallest, simplest thing- was going to be all right. And every time after that he got the same feeling, and to him it was worth it to suffer feeling like his heart was about to burst in his chest. After all, maybe that's what being happy was supposed to feel like. Chris didn't really know.

He closed his eyes and laid his hand on Jonny's chest, a move that he hadn't even consciously thought about, and he quickly realized it was rather bold, but as Jonny didn't say anything about it, he figured it was all right. He could feel and hear Jonny's heart beating, and it made him think things that he had always tried to avoid thinking for fear of the consequences.

He thought about how Jonny's strong arms wrapped around him was like nothing else he'd ever experienced. He thought about how if he had the option, he would say like that forever, because there was no other place in the world that he'd rather be, not even on a stage modeling in front of millions of people. I like it when you hold me, Jonny he thought.

But his eyes opened quickly as he found that maybe he had not actually said that as part of his internal monologue, but as part of his external dialogue. There was no way to tell, really, apart from a reaction from Jonny. He felt sick again, but this time there wasn't such a pleasant undertone to it.

“You do, huh?” Jonny asked, as if what Chris had just said was completely normal. Chris panicked a little, but he ultimately decided the truth would be best. At least, he hoped it would be.

“Yeah,” he quietly began. “Because... well, as ridiculous as it sounds, people are always judging me, especially by my looks. But you don't do that...” Chris lifted his head a little and looked up at Jonny. “You don't judge me at all. So... I just feel... safe.”

Chris was surprised at how easily the words came to him, and how he hadn't even faltered once that entire time. He hadn't really confessed much, though he still did feel like he was pouring his heart out. He wondered if Jonny could tell what else he was hiding.

Jonny's arms tightened a little, and he seemed to have moved his head down to let his chin rest on Chris's head. As time slowly went on, he became very aware that something was different, and there was a smell in the air that he recognized all too well from his partying days, as brief a time as that may have been.

“Chris, did you... throw up or something?” Jonny asked with a tone that seemed to suggest that even he thought it was ridiculous. But Chris didn't respond with the same incredulous tone.

“Um...” Chris froze temporarily, though his mind was hard at work. How was he supposed to answer that? He didn't want Jonny to think he was completely insane, even though he was. But as new tears began to form, he realized which way he would have to go with his answer. “They told me that I could do with losing five pounds,” he shakily replied, trying to sound innocent, but knowing in his heart that there was nothing innocent about any of it.

“Chris!” Jonny moved, and Chris thought he was going to stand up and storm out, but he simply grabbed Chris's shoulders and pulled him up so they were face to face. “You don't need to lose five pounds, and that's not the way to do it.”

Chris stared back at Jonny with frightened eyes, and he croaked, “I'm sorry.”

“Don't apologize,” Jonny said, his expression softening only a little, “I'm not the one you'll end up hurting if you keep doing it.” Chris thought about it, and he felt a strange sensation wash over him as he realized that if it would hurt Jonny more than himself, he would be more likely to never do it again.

Jonny absentmindedly tapped his fingers on his desk in boredom while thinking about what he would eat for dinner. He had only come back from lunch with Chris a few minutes ago, but he was already preparing for the future. There was nothing else for him to do anyway, apart from actual work.

It had become a sort of ritual for them. Every morning, he and Chris would meet in front of the building and chat for about five minutes until they both really had to get to work. They would work for a couple of hours, then at eleven-thirty- or “Close enough!” as Jonny liked to refer to it- they would break for lunch and go out somewhere to get food. Every once in a while Chris was too busy, so Jonny would either have to wait, or go by himself (he never went by himself).

That day hadn't been a problem, since Chris was just finished with what he was doing as Jonny walked into the room. Jonny stood by the door, and as Chris spun around and caught sight of Jonny his eyes bugged and he quickly tried to cover his bare torso with the shirt in his hands.

“Hey, Jonny,” he said as he swooped over. “I'm done for now, um... I just have to get dressed...” Jonny waited around dumbly, and Chris was staring at him. After a few seconds, Chris cleared his throat and said, awkwardly, “Could you maybe, like, turn around or something?”

“Oh, yeah, right.” Having forgotten Chris's weird aversion to being shirtless around other people despite that is was basically his job description, Jonny gave an apologetic look and faced the open doorway. While he was there, he figured he might as well start to make his way through the door.

As he stopped in the hallway, Chris walked up beside him. “Where are we going to today?”

“I don't know, wherever,” Jonny replied, shrugging his shoulders. “You decide.”

And so they found themselves dining at the local pizza parlor, mostly because the service was quick and cheap, and Chris didn't have much time before he had to be back. Neither did Jonny, really, but that didn't matter much to him. He didn't care about his work as much as Chris did.

Jonny sat back at his desk a good fifteen minutes earlier than he had planned, and to waste time he played some solitaire on his computer. After the first game (which he lost), he decided that solitaire wasn't his thing, but planning his dinner for that night was. He managed to come up with the delicious meal of leftover spaghetti and microwavable meatballs before he was hit with the sudden urge to use the restroom.

The bathrooms on the third and second floors were all out of order, so Jonny had to travel all the way down to the lobby. On his way down the small hallway leading to the men's room, he passed a familiar tall and minty-smelling figure which just walked by him without even acknowledging his existence. He abruptly stopped and turned around, because for some reason he had a very strange feeling.

“Chris?”

Chris slowly faced Jonny and said, “Hey,” but he couldn't hide his guilty look. He fiddled with his hands for a bit, then he seemed to give up and walked towards Jonny. “I have to get back to work. And you do to, eh?” Chris lightly tapped his hand against Jonny's arm. “If we wanna keep working at the same place...”

Jonny said nothing, he merely stared at Chris with a look of utter disappointment. He even shook his head a bit, and Chris frowned back at him, then stared at his feet. Eventually, Jonny walked away in the directions of the restrooms, Chris discreetly watching him with his head still down.

He felt like the world was crashing down on his thin shoulders. The only person he had thought he could never let down had just walked away from him without even saying so much as one word, and he found that it hurt a thousand times more than if it had been anyone else. Instead of taking this experience and using it as motivation to change his behavior in a positive way, though, he decided to spend the rest of the day and then some letting himself know just how worthless he thought he was.

Great, you can't do anything right he thought. Now even Jonny hates you, because you're so stupid. But it was only a matter of time...

That night, in his tiny living room, Chris laid on the floor and stared at the ceiling. He felt he didn't deserve to sit or sleep anywhere comfortable, or for that matter, to sleep at all. He also didn't eat anything, which he thought would just be a good punishment for himself, though he seemed to have forgotten the actual reason Jonny was disappointed with him in the first place.

Then he remembered what Maureen had said to him that day, about how he was probably still the heaviest of the models. It had sounded like she was trying to casually throw it into the conversation, but he knew that she was telling him he needed to step it up or he wasn't going to be as successful as the others. That's all he wanted- to be successful. It didn't matter to him what he had to do to become successful, as long as it happened.

For most of his life he barely had friends, or so he thought, and he was therefore used to being alone. But now was the first time he could remember that he actually felt lonely. He didn't like it at all.

After what seemed like ten hours- and very well could have been, as it was now clearly very late in the night- Chris rolled over onto his side. Deep down he knew what to do to make things better, but he also knew that he couldn't be happy anyway if he just gave up on his goal.

Much to his surprise, Chris actually talked to Jonny the next morning. He had been worried that Jonny would ignore him completely, too deep now in loathing Chris to even want to look at him. But that wasn't the case.

Jonny walked up to him as he usually did, as if nothing had happened between them the day before. Chris was a little relieved, but still mostly anxious. He was afraid that Jonny would either just shoot him a death stare and keep walking, or that Jonny would tell him what an awful person he was.

“Morning,” he tried to say as casually as he could, but there was an obvious sadness in his voice. His eyes seemed to plead with Chris, begging him to stop going down the self-destructive path he was on, even though he realized that Chris thought he was actually improving himself.

“Good morning, Jonny,” Chris said, returning the same melancholic tone. He shifted about awkwardly, scratching the back of his neck.

“I was thinking that we could get some Chinese for lunch today.” Chris was looking at the ground, but he could clearly hear the stiffness in Jonny's tone. He wanted desperately to change that.

“Sounds good to me,” Chris replied with a tiny smile. Jonny slowly shook his head.

“And then I thought... what's the point?” he asked. Chris felt that sinking sensation again, like his insides were being pulled to the ground by some unstoppable magnetic force. The only thing that seemed to rise in him was guilt.

“Jonny, I promise you I won't do it,” Chris said, though he felt like the words were being spoken by someone else, coming from a mouth other than his own. Probably because he knew he was lying. Deep down Jonny figured he was, but he still gave Chris the benefit of the doubt.

“Fine. I'll come get you at the regular time, then.” If Chris hadn't finally looked up at Jonny, he would have missed Jonny's small attempt at smiling. It only made him feel a little better.

“Yeah, sounds good.” Then the two men made their way up and into the building, down the hallways to their respective work rooms, all without saying another word.

“Hey, Jonny,” someone called as Jonny sat down at his desk. He looked up to see that it was the man who sat at the desk next to his, Robert. “I need to ask you something.”

“Shoot for it,” Jonny said.

“That guy you're friends with, Chris, does he have a girlfriend? Or is he gay?” Jonny narrowed his eyes at Robert questioningly.

“Why, are you interested or something?” Jonny replied, but he continued before Robert could answer. “As far as I know, he's single and straight. I don't think he has a girlfriend, but we've been best friends for years and he's never said anything to me about being gay, so...”

“All right,” Robert said. “I was just wondering because my friend is one of the other models working along with him, and he wanted me to find out.”

“Oh. Well, I could certainly ask him about the girlfriend thing... I don't know if I feel comfortable asking him if he's gay though, I mean, he probably would have told me anyway.” Jonny suddenly felt uncomfortable, though he was sure exactly why; he wouldn't have had a problem with Chris being gay, but he thought that maybe if Chris was trying to hide it from him, he wouldn't be so fine with it.

“You don't have to actually ask him anything if you don't want. I only told my friend that I would ask you about him, so my part is done.” Robert held up his hands and began to walk away, taking a few steps backwards. “If you do ask him, though, just let me know.”

“Will do.” Jonny waited until Robert left to return his attention to his desk. He sighed at the mere thought of how much work he had to do, and how much he didn't want to do it. Only a small portion of him was glad to work there, and that was solely because it meant that he could keep in touch with Chris.

After ten minutes or so, Jonny finally decided that he should get to actually doing the work. Surprisingly, he didn't take as many mini breaks as he normally did. He only stopped once or twice in the few hours before he was to meet up with Chris, and both times he returned to his work within a matter of minutes.

Jonny had been afraid all during lunch that Chris would suddenly excuse himself to go to the restroom. He wasn't sure how he would handle it, especially because he knew that Chris would only do that for one reason. But, much to Jonny's relief, Chris stayed at the table the entire time. Of course, Chris had never used the restrooms when they were at lunch, only after they went back to work.

Even though they usually split the bill, Jonny offered to pay this particular day. Chris, after much fussing over it, agreed to let Jonny do so. It made him feel a bit guiltier, though, which Jonny had unconsciously intended.

As Jonny stood at the counter and pulled out his wallet, Chris stood behind him and pulled out his cellphone. He hit a few buttons, and suddenly it began to ring. He quickly looked at it, then said to Jonny, “I have to take this. I'll meet you outside.”

“Sure,” Jonny absentmindedly said.

Chris walked out of the building, talking into this phone as he did so. Once he was outside he walked around into the empty alley beside the restaurant and put his phone back into his pocket. He felt awful, but there was no way he could stop himself.

Behind the large dumpster he stood so that no one on the sidewalk would be able to see him. Hopefully no one would hear him either. He had to be quick, so he tried to get to business immediately.

Like he had done so many times before, Chris opened his mouth and shoved his index and middle fingers back as far as they would go until he started gagging. Before long his lunch was burning in his throat as it went to fall to the ground. Once he was sure he'd gotten all of it out, he rinsed his mouth out with a bottle of water that he had brought with him, and he took out a few mints that he had stashed in his pocket.

Chris ran back to the sidewalk, hoping that Jonny would still be inside and he wouldn't be caught. As soon as his foot hit the pavement and he turned, Jonny walked out the door and faced him. For a second Jonny looked suspicious, but it quickly passed.

Suddenly something strange happened, and Chris felt like he was very short of breath, even though he hadn't run that far. And things started to blur, then everything was spinning, and the last thing he saw was Jonny rushing towards him as he collapsed to the ground. Then there was nothing but darkness.

The first thing Chris saw when he opened his eyes was the stark white ceiling tile above him. For a few seconds he felt alone, but the sounds of machines beeping and people being tended to quickly rushed to his ears. Then he felt someone holding onto his arm, gripping very tightly. He moved his head to see Jonny sitting next to him, looking just as bad as Chris felt.

“How...” Chris weakly began, and Jonny's expression was unchanged even as he listened. “How long was I out for?”

“A few hours,” Jonny replied with the same tone that he had used while speaking to Chris earlier that morning. Along with the worry strewn across his face, Jonny was quite clearly angry. Chris couldn't blame him.

“It's because of... what I've been doing, isn't it?” Chris vaguely asked, and Jonny nodded.

“That's what the doctor said.” Chris felt another sweep of guilt, then he looked down at Jonny's hand, still gripped around his arm.

“You told them...” he quietly said, though he wasn't sure why he said it. It seemed pointless; he probably did it just to say something.

“What else was I gonna do?” Jonny said, a bit snappishly. Chris looked back up at him, sad and a little frightened.

“I'm not mad,” he said. “I don't have a reason to be. You have more of a reason.”

Jonny's expression softened a little, so that the anger had disappeared and all that was left behind was a massive amount of concern. “I just don't see why you keep purposely hurting yourself.”

“Jonny...” Chris had intended on finishing the sentence much sooner than he actually did, but he was stopped by the sudden crack in his voice. He could already feel the emotion overwhelming him, and he knew it wouldn't be long before he started crying. So, he tried again to finish his sentence quickly. “I don't want to do it anymore. I don't like doing it. B-But I can't stop.”

Chris closed his eyes against the stream of tears flowing down his cheeks. He felt Jonny's hand move, but moments later Jonny's arms were wrapped around him, and he could feel Jonny's breath on his ear.

“Chris, I can help you,” Jonny whispered, and it sounded as though he was not too far from tears himself. “I'll be here for you, if you need to go to meetings or check into rehab or whatever, I'll help.”

Chris placed his own arms around Jonny, holding on with as much force as he could. Part of him was just happy that Jonny was still willing to be his friend, and the other part of him was wishing that he would be more. But for now he was fine with settling for just friends.

Except he had voiced his thoughts without realizing it again, and Jonny pulled back a little. Chris looked at him through the blurriness. He tried to wipe his eyes off on his sleeve so he could see more clearly.

“You... what?” Jonny asked in a low voice. It was hard to tell how exactly he was reacting to Chris's statement; his face appeared entirely blank.

“I... like you. A lot,” Chris repeated, and he figured that since he was already in for it, he may as well keep going. “For years. Since we met, almost. You were just so nice to me, and I couldn't help it.” Chris pulled his arms away from Jonny and looked down at his hands. “If you don't want to help me anymore, I understand-”

“That explains a lot.” When Chris raised his eyes again he saw that Jonny was intensely staring into space, almost as if he hadn't heard most of what Chris had said. “It explains more than I would have thought it would, anyway.”

“Did you know?” Chris asked, feeling as though if Jonny had known, he should have said something much sooner. But Jonny shook his head.

"No, and I never would have even considered it.” Jonny went back to the chair he was in earlier, still looking mighty pensive. “Except that now you've said it, I'm starting to think that maybe it was kinda obvious.”

“Is this bad?” Jonny finally broke his absentminded gaze and stared at Chris. Chris suddenly felt like he was on display, much like he did when he was modeling. But now it made him feel worse, because Jonny was the only person he knew who had never made him feel that way before.

“No,” Jonny simply replied. “I'm not sure it's exactly good, but it's not bad, at least.”

“I just don't want things to change between us because of it.”

Jonny smiled a little. “Unless it's for the better, right? Like, I'm sure you wouldn't mind if we were.. a couple or whatever.”

“Right,” Chris said, his cheeks slowly turning red. He was starting to feel a bit more comfortable, but his embarrassment was still plentiful. “What are the chances of that happening, do you think?”

“Well,” Jonny began, shrugging, “I guess anything could happen. The future is a mystery, my friend.”

Chris thought it a bit odd that Jonny would suggest they could have a future together, then use the word “friend,” but he quickly brushed it off and focused solely on the first part. Still, he was fine with just being Jonny's friend, but the mere idea that there could be more between them filled him with hope. He really had never liked anyone besides Jonny, at least not as much as he liked Jonny.

And even though Jonny had once told him that his self-harming behavior would hurt himself more than Jonny, he realized that it wasn't exactly true. Sure, in the long run it would probably cause more damage to him, but Chris could plainly see that Jonny cared for him quite a lot, and that Chris's behavior was putting a huge emotional strain on Jonny. It was one of the things that really made him want to stop.

“So...” Chris casually said, then he sighed a little. “Rehab, eh?”

Chris was curled up on his bed, facing the only window in the room, but ultimately staring into space. It had been a long week, and the next one would be just as difficult, if not more. He blinked every now and then, breathed, but as always it was the tiny back corner of his mind doing all the work; the rest of it was currently being consumed by thoughts of Jonny, and how handsome he had looked when he last visited.

Chris was generally unaccustomed to missing Jonny so much. He had gone for three years without seeing him, and only a small handful of times did Chris ever long to see him again. But now it was all he could think about, and part of the reason was that since Chris had confessed his feelings, Jonny acted differently around him. Not in a bad way, though, but in a very, very good way. Chris felt like Jonny was being more... well, he didn't know how to describe it. He tried not to think that Jonny was being flirtatious, because he didn't want his hopes to rise too high, but Jonny was definitely more than just friendly with Chris.

The last time he had visited, nearly a week prior, Jonny brought a few books to keep Chris occupied, since Chris had so much free time with little activities to fill it, and when he handed them over he flashed Chris a smile that would be emblazoned in Chris's mind for an eternity. Little things like that, and the way Jonny's voice cracked a little with happiness every time he said Chris's name, were what made him want to forget about anything and everything else in the world. He even wanted to forget the world itself, all the oxygen he breathed and the sunshine he bathed in, so long as he could still have Jonny.

Though he had been rather tentative to define Jonny's actions himself, he had no problem whatsoever with classifying his own sudden obsession over Jonny as love. The best friend he ever had, who for five long and sometimes nonexistent years helped him get through so much more than he could have ever imagined, was the love of his life. There was no denying it.

Ever since that day that he had felt a fluttering in the pit of his stomach as Jonny turned to him, smiled, and said, “Chris, you're the dumbest kid I know,” he knew that Jonny could never be just his friend. At least, he could never be able to look at Jonny as just his friend.

After that, he found himself more and more often thinking about Jonny, but it scared him a bit, and usually he tried to think of other things instead. What mostly frightened him was the idea that if Jonny found out about Chris's thoughts, then maybe he wouldn't want to be Chris's friend anymore, and that would have been the most terrible loss Chris had ever suffered, not because he was in love with Jonny then, but because Jonny was the only person who ever made him feel good about himself. Not even his parents had ever managed that, and it could even be well argued that they were the ones who caused so much damage to Chris's self-esteem in the first place.

Now, five years later, he was no longer afraid, because he knew he would never lose Jonny. They had already been through so much in the past month alone, and Jonny still stuck with him all the way. What did he have to be afraid of? He had never expected Jonny to return his love, so that didn't matter to him. All he wanted was Jonny's friendship.

A soft knock on the door interrupted Chris's train of thought, and he even started a bit as the sound had caught him quite off-guard. He didn't really feel like getting off the bed, so he just shouted at whoever was behind the door.

“Come in!” he yelled, though his voice sounded gentle, and the door creaked as it was pushed open, a hand clasped around the edge and directing it in the direction it was meant to go.

Irene was a heavyset woman in her late forties, with short red hair and the thickest pair of glasses Chris had ever seen. She usually wore a floral patterned shirt and black yoga pants, and her outfit today was absolutely no different. She pressed the bridge of the glasses up her nose and looked at Chris for a few moments.

“Are you almost ready, Christopher?” she asked in a nasally voice almost as thick as her glasses. When Chris only responded with a blank stare, she went on, “For your session.”

“Oh, right.” Chris flicked a nonexistent piece of fuzz off his blanket and slowly stood up. After four weeks, he felt like there was not much they hadn't already talked about at these so-called sessions, though he knew deep down that it was still going to be a while before any of his problems were actually solved.

He followed Irene down to the small office he had come to know and nearly dread. It was a confined space, just as big as his room was, and every time he had to visit he felt like he was going to be judged to no end, which he basically was. What made it worse was that the doctor never really talked back to him, never made any real sort of conversation, and that made it seem like he was judging Chris even more. He just felt exposed, and the lack of response made him anxious.

“Ah, Christopher,” Dr. Pots said as Chris walked into the room. “Do have a seat.” He waved to a chair in front of him, then looked down at a clipboard sitting in his lap. He marked a few things as Chris walked around the room and sat down. “How are you doing today?”

“I'm all right,” Chris meekly replied as Dr. Pots lifted his dark brown eyes. They just seemed endless, his eyes, and Chris couldn't even see a soul in them. Dr. Pots nodded, smiled a little in a way that made Chris feel even less comfortable, and he marked another thing on his clipboard.

“Chris,” Dr. Pots said, as he had noticed Chris's discomfort, and Chris looked up at him, “I want you to tell me something you've never told anyone else.”

Chris stared at him for thirty long seconds. He would have tried to think of something, but his mind blanked, and anyway he didn't think that it was right for him to be put on the spot like that. What if he didn't want to tell this man anything? Maybe there was a reason he had never told anyone else before.

But he found himself saying the words regardless. “When I was fifteen, I almost killed myself.” He looked back at his hands, now unsure of what else to do; the information was out there, and all that was left was to wait.

After some light tapping on his clipboard, Dr. Pots said, “Go on.” Chris was a little shocked by the response. He had expected at the very least some sort of disapproving grunt, and this reaction almost seemed to be an actual lack of reaction.

Chris shrugged. “Well... There's not much else to say.” Like before, though, Chris found it relatively easy to talk about his memory. He sighed a little, then continued. “I wasn't feeling too great about myself. Actually, it didn't seem like anyone else was, either...”

–

Chris stood at his locker, making sure he had all the books he needed for his homework that night. When he was finished, he slammed the door and began to turn around. A petite girl was standing next to him, much to his surprise.

“Listen, Chris,” she immediately began, “my friend told me that you like me, and while I'm flattered, you're just... not really my type. I mean, I'm not even sure whose type you are.”

Chris was utterly confused, because he most certainly did not like this girl. He didn't even know who she was. He did think that he saw a hint of a smile etched across her face, and instead of responding first, he looked around. Not far behind her, on the other side of the hallway, was a group of girls all staring in his direction, all giggling to themselves.

“I-I don't think your f-friend knows what she's...” Chris quietly said, and he suddenly felt absolutely pathetic. He couldn't even defend himself against a fifteen-year-old girl. How could he be so weak?

The girl watched him fluster for a while, then decided she'd had enough entertainment. She rejoined her group and they all walked away, laughing. He wanted to know what they thought was so wrong with him, but then he realized two things: the answer would only make him feel much worse; and they probably thought everything was wrong with him. He might have agreed with them.

There was one tiny thing he liked about himself, and that was- as odd as it may have sounded- the way he walked. He had always taken pride in his stride for some strange reason. That was even part of why he wanted to be a model. He figured that if he wasn't exactly the best looking, at least he would be able to walk well down the catwalk. That had to count for something.

And, of course, it was the one thing that hurt Chris the most when just one boy from his class who had been loitering on the sidewalk with his friends decided to pick on it. As Chris walked by, he called out a number of ridiculous things that sounded like they were meant to be compliments, but were definitely said in a most derogatory fashion (“Yeah-heh! Strut that stuff!”).

Chris stopped in the middle of the sidewalk, and for the second time that day he heard the sound of kids laughing at him. At that point, he completely broke down, and for a few seconds he stopped breathing before taking the deepest breath any human has ever taken, and the tears just started pouring from his eyes like there was no tomorrow. Then, as the other boys pushed their way past him, purposely bumping into him and almost knocking him over, he decided that there wouldn't be a tomorrow.

He stayed there long after the other boys had gone, and he sat on the curb, hugging himself tightly and muttering a bunch of things to himself. He tried to think of how best to do it, if he should do it quick and get it done and over with, or if he should take his time and suffer. A little part of him thought he deserved to suffer.

Too absorbed in self-deprecation, Chris didn't notice when another boy sat down beside him. Jonny stared at Chris for the longest time, just trying to understand why this skinny kid he thought he might have seen before pass by in the halls was curled up on the corner by his house. It's not like he had ever done that before.

“There's no point,” Chris grumbled, and Jonny finally felt prompted to speak.

“You break your pencil?” Chris started, snapped his head over to see Jonny, and his eyes were wide. He shifted a little, away from Jonny, and blinked several times in confusion.

“What?”

“Did you break your pencil?” Jonny repeated, slower, and he watched as his wit continued to befuddle Chris. “You said there's no point.”

Chris stared at him and tried to look serious and unamused, but Jonny could see the corners of Chris's mouth twitch ever so slightly. “That's not very funny,” he said in a pout.

“It's not?” Jonny replied, and he tried to mimic Chris's expression. For a while Chris looked at him and tried to keep from laughing, but eventually Jonny got the better of him and he unwillingly smiled. Jonny sat back a little and looked smug. “Yeah, there you go.”

“It really wasn't funny at all,” Chris insisted. “It was really... dumb.”

“Well, I didn't think you could handle my better humor,” Jonny replied. “It's even more complex. Probably would have gone way over your head.”

Chris didn't really know how to respond; here was this boy, who he had barely and only just met, and already he was being teased by him. But this felt different. Rather than making him want to put an end to his misery, this boy made him want to... well, he had already made Chris smile. It was something that Chris had forgotten he could do.

At some point during Chris's pause, Jonny had decided to place his hand awkwardly on Chris's back as a sort of there, there gesture. It stayed there for a few moments, then the next thing Jonny knew he was wrapping his entire arm around Chris, then his other arm. Chris let his head rest on Jonny's shoulder, and in that instant he felt something he had never experienced before.

–

Chris, after staring into space for a few seconds, shook his head as he finished recalling his tale. “And then, I, uh... changed my mind.”

“Why did you change your mind?” Dr. Pots asked. Chris raised his eyes.

“Because I... I don't- I just didn't feel so depressed-”

“You felt what, then? Happy?” One of the things he hated most about these sessions was the doctors constant questioning about things he already knew. Chris figured it was just because the doctor wanted him to actually say the answers or some ridiculousness like that, and he greatly resented it.

“I didn't know what I felt,” Chris quietly said. “I'm not sure it was happiness... maybe... contentment?”

“So, you could say that at that moment, your friend made you feel like you had some worth? If only a tiny bit.” Chris thought on it for a while, for no particular reason other than the butterflies rampantly fluttering in his stomach. Slowly, he nodded, and Dr. Pots scratched something down on his papers.

“Out of the corner of her eye, she spied a card wedged between the mailbox and the lid, right next to the front door. Curious, Julie opened it, reading it on the porch as Singer burst from the woods and trotted up to her. Dear Julie-”

“Excuse me,” came the voice of Irene. Chris stopped reading and looked up at her. “I hate to interrupt, but the doctor needs to talk with you.” Chris closed the book and went to stand, but Irene held her hand out. “Not you, Christopher. You,” she said, pointed one of her large fingers at Jonny.

Jonny looked to Chris for help, for some sort of clue as to why he would need to be spoken with, but he received nothing. Chris shrugged and opened his book again, leaving Jonny to go off on his own.

Dr. Pots was sitting at his desk when Jonny walked in, still entirely confused, and he only looked up from his work when Jonny was standing directly before him. He smiled, gestured to the chair Jonny stood next to, and said, “Please, have a seat.”

Jonny did so, tightly gripping the arms of the chair in anticipation. “May I ask why you called me here?”

“Yes. Chris... Well, we feel that Chris is ready to leave... our facilities. Uh, he will need to return once a week for more therapy sessions, but he is well enough that he no longer needs to stay here. However,” Dr. Pots sharply drew in a breath, “it might be beneficial if he does not stay on his own.”

“He can stay with me,” Jonny immediately replied, either agreeing to the doctor's unsaid proposal, or merely suggesting it himself. The doctor took a liking to this, and he smiled kindly.

“Good, we were hoping that you would be eager to take him in. You see, from the time that I've spent with Chris, it's seem quite clear that you are the only person he trusts. And, of course, right now that is extremely crucial.” Jonny silently nodded, and he felt an almost childlike sort of excitement bubbling deep inside of him. He had never had a roommate before, and he could tell that he and Chris living together would only equal great times.

“I'll make sure he's taken care of,” Jonny said, and he thought he might have winked. Then he felt a little creepy, but he nonetheless continued with his ecstatic behavior.

“I have the utmost confidence in you,” Dr. Pots told him, and his tone sounded awkward, like he wasn't sure how to end the meeting, but he was definitely finished talking to Jonny. “So, um... Chris can stay overnight, pack up his things, and then tomorrow we'll discharge him and you can bring him home. Is that all right?”

“Wonderful,” Jonny replied, beaming. He too sensed that their time was up, and his eyes darted around the room. “Is there anything else, or-?”

“No, that's all. You can leave, if you like.” Dr. Pots inconspicuously let out a sigh of relief, glad that Jonny had found a way to wrap things up. Jonny grinned and stood up, not wanting to move too quickly and make the doctor think that he didn't want to be there at all.

As he took his seat once more next to Chris, he leaned forward and stayed like that until he caught Chris's attention. Chris looked up at him, a tiny, expectant smile dancing across his lips, and he too leaned forward.

“What was that about?” he whispered, raising an eyebrow.

“You're going home tomorrow,” Jonny said. “Only you're not really going home. You'll be staying with me. Is that all right?”

“That's... fine,” Chris said, though his tone indicated otherwise. He sat back in his seat and clasped his hands in his laps, looking thoughtfully into the distance. “You're all right with this?”

“Yeah,” Jonny replied, a little confused by the slight disbelief in Chris's voice. “Why wouldn't I be?” Chris turned his head so that he could barely see Jonny in his peripheral vision and limply shrugged his shoulders, hoping Jonny would understand because he was too embarrassed to say the real reason. “Oh.”

Chris quickly whipped his head around, now sounding very desperate as he said, “It doesn't have to be a problem. It won't be a problem. I just... wanted to make sure that you...”

“It's not a problem,” Jonny agreed, and Chris's face softened a considerable amount. “I told you I'd help you. No matter what. You're still my best friend, Chris, nothing will change that. And if you need me, then I'll be glad to be here for you.”

“Did the doctor say that? That I need you, I mean,” Chris said, though as soon as the words left his mouth and his cheeks felt hot, he regretted it a little.

Jonny stared at Chris, tempted to respond with Why, because it's true? but he didn't; it felt like an insult, a snide remark, and Jonny actually kinda liked seeing Chris like this. He was almost cute when he was embarrassed. “Well, he said that he thinks I'm the only person you trust.”

Chris nodded and smiled, but his smile was bittersweet. “He's right.” Chris moved exaggeratedly in his seat, suddenly very uncomfortable. He cleared his throat several times, then said, “Jonny, you should, uh, you should go home now. You know, I'll see you tomorrow.”

Jonny, instead of giving in to Chris's demand, narrowed his eyes dozily at Chris. Chris nervously tapped his foot, waiting for Jonny to say something, anything. But the longer that Jonny stared at him, the less fretful he became, and it was almost like it was whenever Jonny hugged him. It scared him a little, because it was obvious that Jonny knew what he was doing, but he could feel himself relaxing as his body sank into the chair.

Chris completely trusted Jonny, and didn't seem to mind the extreme power that Jonny had over him. He was only worried that he wouldn't be able to trust himself or whatever he might possibly do if he became too comfortable around Jonny.

“This is your room now.” Chris looked around; it was small, the wallpaper was horrifically ugly, but he liked it anyway. The thought of having his own space inside of Jonny's apartment made him happy, even though he knew it didn't really mean anything.

“Awesome,” Chris quietly said. He turned around and smiled at Jonny, wide and bright, and he took a few swift steps forward. “So, what d'you got 'round here for food?”

“Really,” Jonny replied, laughing a little. Chris took offense, placing his hands on his hips, though it was mostly feigned.

“I am a changed man, Jonny,” he firmly said. “Now, please, please tell me that what you have is at least a billion times better than that awful rehab food. I mean, seriously, they want me to get better, but they feed me stuff that tastes like dirt- and yes, unfortunately, I know all too well what that tastes like.”

“Well... I can't make any promises. Most of what I have is unhealthy, microwavable crap.” As soon as Jonny stopped speaking, Chris held his hands out. For quite a while he stood like that, completely still.

“Jonny. That sounds wonderful.”

Five minutes later, Chris and Jonny were sitting on the ratty sofa in Jonny's poor excuse for a living room, a rather large plate of pizza rolls between them. Much to Jonny's surprise, Chris seemed to be shoveling them down his throat like a car speeding down a highway.

“Careful, you might end up choking or something,” Jonny said as he shot strange looks in Chris's direction. “Geez.”

Chris stopped halfway through eating a pizza roll, and he looked at Jonny with big, innocent eyes. “I appreciate your concern, Jonny, but I think I'll be fine.”

“Yeah, well... Save some for me, too.” Chris grinned, grabbed another roll from the plate, and held it up to Jonny's mouth. Jonny silently stared at Chris, blinking, and Chris just stared right back, the grin only stretching wider across his face. Chris continued to shove the food closer and closer to Jonny until finally, Jonny swung his hand and snatched it. Chris started to laugh.

“Still want me staying with you?” he said through fits of giggles. Jonny smiled without thinking about it; he was really glad that Chris seemed to be so happy. It was a nice change of pace.

“Good point. Maybe I should reconsider,” he joked, and he took a bite of the pizza roll he was still holding. Chris's laughter began to fade, but his smile remained prominent. But he quickly looked away from Jonny, realizing that he had begun to feel too comfortable again.

The silence that loomed in the air over the proceeding minutes felt awkward, at least to Chris, as he struggled to find some subject to switch to, one that wouldn't result in him openly flirting with Jonny. He made a promise to himself then to work really hard on fixing his problems, so that he wouldn't have to be in too many situations like this, and so that he wouldn't be such a burden on Jonny for very long.

“Chris,” Jonny said to break the silence. Chris slowly looked up at him, afraid of what he would say in response, afraid that maybe somehow he had read Chris's mind. But Jonny merely shoved the plate towards Chris. “Do you want the rest?”

“Oh, sure.” Chris took the plate into his lap, and Jonny reached over to the table beside the sofa in search of the television remote. He found it and a few seconds later the set clicked on, and some annoying news broadcaster began droning on and on in that typical nasal voice that news anchors so often use. Jonny immediately changed the channel.

“There's never anything good on,” Jonny quietly said, seeming as though he was trying to subtly start a conversation. Chris was immersed in his pizza rolls, but he briefly looked up at Jonny and nodded.

“That's why I never watch telly,” Chris said through a mouthful of food. Then he went back to the plate.

An hour later, while Jonny was watching some strange show on the Spanish channel he didn't understand even a little, he quickly glanced over to the other side of the couch. Chris's head had dropped onto his own shoulder, his eyes tightly closed and his chest steadily moving up and down. Jonny's eyes stuck on the image for a while, and he smiled to himself. He thought about waking Chris up, but decided that Chris just looked far too peaceful the way he was.

After another ten minutes, though, Jonny thought it might be best to wake Chris, just so that he wasn't sleeping in such an uncomfortable position. He lightly shook Chris's arm, and within a few seconds Chris's eyes fluttered open.

“Huh?” he groggily said. Almost instantly, he regained full consciousness, and he sat straight up and looked at Jonny with big eyes. “Oh... I guess I was tired.”

“Yeah, I guess so,” Jonny agree with a small laugh.

“What time is it?”

“Um...” Jonny referred to the wristwatch strapped around his wrist. “It's almost seven.”

“Hmm... OK.” Chris lifted his arms and stretched widely, his right arm almost hitting Jonny. When he was done he collapsed into the sofa again, curling his legs around his side and propping his head up on his elbow, which rested on the arm of the couch.

“You can go back to sleep if you want,” Jonny told him, “I just thought you might want to sleep in a more comfortable posi-”

Jonny's sentence was interrupted by a very loud and obviously fake snore from Chris. He waited a few seconds, and Chris emitted another snore. Then another. By the fourth time, Jonny had retrieved the pillow that had been resting on and was prepared to fire it whenever he needed to. Then, as Chris breathed in deeply, Jonny launched the pillow, and while it mostly missed Chris, the very corner managed to clip the back of his head.

“Heyyyyy!” he shouted as he sprung up again. He folded his arms across his chest and pouted at Jonny. “That wasn't very nice.”

Jonny blinked at him, his face as blank as he could make it. “I have no idea what you're talking about.”

Then, quite suddenly, the television shouted, “No lo soy, Hector, NO LO SOY!” and the two men both forgot whatever they were talking about before and shot strange looks at the set.

One morning Jonny was walking to the kitchen, and on his way he noticed an unusual lump on the couch, a lump which appeared to be Chris-shaped. He walked around and sure enough, Chris was sound asleep, stretched all the way from one arm rest to the other.

“Chris,” Jonny whispered as he knelt down. He uttered Chris's name a few more times before Chris finally woke. “Hey, good morning.”

“Morning,” Chris meagerly replied.

“Why did you sleep out here?” Jonny asked him. It took Chris a few minutes just to register Jonny's question, let alone answer it. He sighed a few times and tried to keep his eyes open.

“I was sleeping in my room, but then I saw a... a spider crawling around, and it went under my pillow and disappeared...” Chris's breath became heavy, and the pitch of his voice went up. “And so I came out here to sleep instead, because I couldn't stay in there.”

“A spider, really?” Jonny replied, with a hint of an incredulous laugh. Chris didn't find it funny at all. “Spiders are harmless.”

“I know, but... but what if it was more than just one? And what if, while I was sleeping, they were crawling all over me and-” Chris cringed, drew in a shaky breath, and briefly closed his eyes. Jonny sat, observing.

“OK, but there could have been spiders on the couch, too.”

Before Jonny had even finished the sentence, Chris shrieked, jumped up from the couch, and landed all the way on the other side of the room, his legs brought up to his chest and his head buried in his knees. Jonny could hear him whimpering, could see his back trembling.

It was strange; during the course of their friendship, Jonny had seen Chris nervous, he had seen him distressed, but he had never seen Chris as scared as he was now. He seemed so vulnerable, and it almost hurt Jonny to watch him.

Tentatively, Jonny wormed his way over to where Chris was. For a few moments he sat there feeling helpless, then he reached out a hand and gently placed it on Chris's shoulder. Chris slowly lifted his head, his eyes blurry with the beginning of tears. Jonny looked straight into those eyes and searched for encouraging words to say.

“Chris, it's OK,” he said, realizing that it wasn't much or very convincing at all. He just didn't know what else to say. Chris's bottom lip quivered as he tried to make himself believe Jonny's words. Then somehow Jonny's hand had slid up and was gripped around the back of Chris's neck, the tips of his fingers buried in Chris's curls.

Chris's mouth was open a little, in shock, or perhaps he was anticipating Jonny's next move. Without thinking, Jonny leaned in, his chest pressed up against Chris's knees, and he kissed Chris like he had never kissed anyone before. He could feel the tension in Chris's body release, and as he pulled away he could see that Chris's eyes were mostly dry now. But his breath was still shaky.

“Jonny...” Chris breathed, his eyes wide and his hand over his heart. “Jonny, you just kissed me...”

Jonny drew his eyebrows together, thinking. “I... I did.” He lifted his eyes to Chris and half-smiled. “It wasn't so bad, right?”

“Of course not.” Chris lowered his arm and stared at his hands. He thought about asking Jonny if they could do it again, but he didn't want to push his luck. Then he felt the sudden need to pour his heart out. “Jonny... y-you saved me.”

His voice cracked and tears welled in his eyes once more, and soon enough Jonny was close, his hands brushing up against Chris's arms.

“I just couldn't stand seeing you hurt yourself like that,” he quietly said. Chris raised his eyes, shook his head. He could hardly believe he was actually going to say this.

“No, not with rehab and stuff, though I suppose that does apply...” For some reason, Chris nearly resented the feeling of Jonny's hands against his skin. If only he knew- well, he was about to find out. Chris took a deep breath. “When we first met- remember?” His eyes briefly met Jonny's, and he saw the sign to continue. But he couldn't keep staring. He just couldn't. “When you sat next to me, I was... um... well, I was... d-deciding... deciding h-how to k-kill myself.”

Though he had shut his eyes with as much force as he could to try to block the world, he could feel Jonny's reaction in the way his hands stiffened against Chris's arms, but didn't tighten their grip.

“There's no point,” Jonny said in a cracked voice, almost a whisper. Chris looked up in spite of himself.

“What?”

“There's no point,” Jonny repeated, a bit louder and stronger this time. “That's what you said... You were talking about... a-and I made a joke.” Jonny sounded absolutely disgusted with himself, which was certainly not anywhere near what Chris had expected.

“No, no, Jonny, can't you see that was a good thing?” Chris maneuvered so that he was resting on his knees, leaning over until his chest just barely touched Jonny's. As he lifted a hand to stroke Jonny's cheek, he realized that this may have very well been the first time that Chris had ever reassured Jonny of anything. It had always been the other way around. “If you hadn't, well... you know.”

“It wasn't even funny.”

“Jonny, you're always funny. Even when you don't mean to be,” Chris added with a hint of a laugh. Jonny looked at him skeptically, and for a second or two Chris thought he was going to crack a smile. But he just kept his serious expression.

“Chris, I know you don't like to think it's true, but you really are beautiful. And I don't mean physically- though you certainly are attractive-” Chris found himself completely entranced by Jonny's words, and he felt Jonny's arm wrap around his waist. “But you're also the sweetest person I know, and if anyone gives you shit for anything, it's just because they're jealous.”

And then, for the first time in his life, as he stared into the deep green eyes of the man he loved, Chris actually believed that he was worth more than everything that had ever happened to him.

Chris smiled to himself as he was staring into space. Dr. Pots was watching him, but he didn't care. He had just finished recounting the previous day's events, and he really could do nothing but smile.

“He told you you were beautiful?” Dr. Pots inquired, his tone almost hitting disbelief. For weeks he had talked to Chris, and it was very obvious that Chris was enamored of Jonny, but he had would never have expected their relationship to advance further.

“He did,” Chris replied wondrously, “and I believed him. I actually believed him!” Chris laughed a little, but his seemingly unbreakable happiness was brought down a notch when he noticed that Dr. Pots had a rather serious look on his face.

“So, you agreed with him? You think you're beautiful?” Chris shifted in his chair, twisting his mouth up.

“Well...” Chris's shoulders slumped a little to match his frown. He took a deep breath, and his voice quieted immensely. “I did.”

“And now you're beginning to doubt yourself?”

There was silence for a minute or so. Dr. Pots had his pen held tightly in his hand, ready to begin writing at any second. Chris was going to affirm, but he was struck with a sudden and overwhelming sense of empowerment.

“No,” he firmly said, his voice much stronger than before. “Jonny was right. OK, well, maybe he exaggerated a bit, but he had the right idea.” Chris stood up, almost without thinking, and he managed to increase his volume even further. “I'm worth more than how everyone treats me, including you, and I'm not going to sit here anymore, day after day, and listen to you mock me and insult my intelligence!”

“You think I insult your intelligence?” Dr. Pots asked, calmly, though there was definitely a hint of bitterness to his tone.

“Yes,” Chris emphatically said. Dr. Pots blankly stared at him for a few moments. For a while he seemed to be frozen, but eventually he moved and glanced down at his clipboard.

“Well, all right, Chris. If you think that you don't need these sessions anymore, feel free to leave and get on with your life,” he said, and he made a tiny mark on his paper. Chris stood and watched, expecting him to continue, but he said nothing. When Dr. Pots finally looked up again and noticed that Chris was still there, he took a breath and remained completely calm. “Seriously, you can go now. I won't call you back in.”

Chris badly wanted to leave, but something kept him there. He had this image in his head of Jonny, as he almost always did, and he realized that leaving was not the thing to do. Jonny would have told him to stay.

He sat down again, slowly, but he still felt as confident as he had before. Dr. Pots remained seemingly emotionless throughout, just breathing and blinking and watching Chris with a blank face.

“You're not going to leave?” he remarked. It took a few moments to respond, but Chris shook his head. “May I ask why not?”

“Because... because I'm afraid.” Chris had not expected to say those words, particularly because he hadn't exactly realized those feelings himself. And though he thought that might have been all he had to say, he continued on. “What if I haven't changed enough, and what if Jonny sees it and then he... he doesn't want to be with me anymore?”

“Do you think that you need to be a different person for Jonny to like you?”

“Well, I mean, I don't think he ever liked me before-” Chris began, but he interrupted himself. “But I didn't change. I changed after he said all those things to me. Right?”

“You said that you and Jonny have been friends for five years,” Dr. Pots said, flipping through papers on his clipboard from previous sessions. “Even though for most of that time you hardly spoke, he still seems to care about you far more than anyone else. After all, he was the one who brought you here.”

“So, Jonny likes me the way I am,” Chris said with a tiny smile. “Except, I let him down before. I don't want to do that again.”

Chris looked down to the floor, frowning at the memory of his recent past, and he could hear Dr. Pots's pen scratching away once more. He waited patiently for the doctor to speak.

“Chris, I would say that you have made quite an improvement today,” Dr. Pots began. “Usually you had wanted to change yourself to please other people and because you thought you weren't good enough, but now it seems you only want to change for Jonny. Of course, it would be best if you were more focused on what you want, but that will come in due time. For now, though, you are at least beginning to see that you are not worth as little as you've been led to believe. Does that sound about right?”

Dr. Pots tapped the cap of his pen against the clipboard as he crossed his legs and looked up at Chris. Chris nodded in response.

“I think so,” Chris apprehensively said. “I just want to be the best person I can be, that's all. But I- I guess I'm closer to that now. Or, I'm closer than I thought I was.”

“Good. Now, Chris, I do have one more thing to address.” Dr. Pots wiped his hand across his forehead, sighed, and set both of his feet on the ground once more. “Do you intend on returning to modeling?”

Chris's brain seemed to freeze. He honestly had never thought about what he would do after rehab, or even what he would do while he was in rehab. And now he certainly didn't know what to do. Part of him still really wanted to model, but he knew deep down that it probably wasn't a good choice.

“I... I don't know,” Chris finally answered.

Chris was laying on his back, staring absentmindedly at the ceiling. He hadn't been aware that Jonny was awake until he felt something move beside him, then there was the feeling of warm skin on his cheek that could only have come from Jonny's hand.

He turned his head and his eyes met Jonny's. “What's up?” Jonny quietly asked, slipping his hand onto Chris's stomach. Chris thought for a few moments, trying to understand himself just precisely what was up.

“Jonny, I don't know what to do,” he muttered back.

“Here's what you should do,” Jonny began, scooting closer to Chris so that by the time he laid his head back on his pillow, their noses nearly touched. “You should go to sleep.”

“Do you think I should go back to modeling?” Chris asked, as if Jonny had never said anything in response to his previous statement. Jonny's eyes softened with sympathy, and Chris saw him wince a little.

Jonny's reply appeared to Chris to be rather forced, like he wasn't exactly lying, but he certainly wasn't saying how he truly felt. “If you want to, then you should,” he said. Chris sighed and looked back up at the ceiling.

“It's just... I don't know. I kinda want to, but...” Though it was difficult to do while laying down, Chris shrugged his shoulders. “I just don't think I'm, you know, cut out for it.”

“Actually, I think you're perfect for it, but that's not really such a good thing,” Jonny honestly said. He slid his hand down further so that it rested on Chris's waist. “You should do it if you want to. If you think you can handle it.”

“I'm not good at much else,” Chris mused.

“You're good at lots of things,” Jonny told him, and he brought his lips to Chris's cheek. “Like, you would make an awesome... singer.”

Chris snorted in disbelief, and he nearly rolled his eyes. “Yeah, OK.”

“I'm serious,” Jonny truthfully replied, though his laughter seemed to suggest otherwise. “I hear you singing in the shower, Chris. You have a beautiful voice.”

“You really think so?” Chris asked as he looked over to Jonny.

“Mm-hmm. And you would make a great-” Jonny began, but he was immediately interrupted by his own thoughts. “Hey, you know what? If you don't end up going back, one of the guys I work with quit last week. I could pull a few strings, and maybe we could be working right next to each other.”

Chris could tell from Jonny's wide smile and enthusiastic tone that he was really keen on the idea, but something held him back. “Computers confuse me,” he said, trying as best as he possibly could not to disappoint Jonny. Luckily, Chris's answer didn't seem to even faze Jonny in the slightest.

“Listen, Chris, if I can do that job, you can do it,” he said.

“But, Jonny, you're really smart,” Chris replied in protest.

“Yeah, and so are you.” Although in the total darkness it was hard to distinguish much, Chris could clearly see the vivid green in Jonny's eyes, and it calmed him as if he was staring into some sort of endless and discolored ocean. That was when he realized that from time to time he said the things he did to Jonny only because he knew that Jonny would reply with kinder and more uplifting and complimentary things. He desperately wished he wasn't so needy.

“You can pull some strings?” he quietly asked, and he turned on his side so that his and Jonny's bodies were pressed together. Jonny smiled again, his eyes lighting up.

“Yeah,” Jonny said. Chris smiled too, genuinely, and through the dark his lips met with Jonny's. His hand wrapped around Jonny's neck, and his thumb gently brushed Jonny's smooth skin. Jonny moaned a little as their mouths were crushed together even more, though it most likely had to do with Chris trying to fit his leg in between Jonny's thighs.

“Oh,” Chris said as he pulled away, leaving Jonny a little disconcerted. “What time is it?”

“It's probably around three or so,” Jonny answered, and Chris's eyes widened.

“Wow. Already?” Chris brought his hand up and stroked Jonny's cheek. “Jonny, you better get to sleep. Wouldn't want to be falling asleep while you're trying to get me a job.” Chris winked, and Jonny sighed, playfully rolling his eyes.

“Fine,” he dramatically said, but while he agreed, he wasn't going to leave Chris alone that easily. He closed his eyes and snuggled up against Chris, basking in the warmth of the heat Chris's body was producing. His head laid on Chris's chest, and as Chris looked down at Jonny and smiled, he wondered if Jonny could hear his heartbeat, and if it was telling him just how much Chris loved him. Chris certainly wasn't going to say it.

Chris closed his eyes as well, and his nose was buried in Jonny's hair as his head fell against the pillow they were now semi-sharing. It tickled a little, but it didn't bother him much; he just stayed right where he was, deeply inhaling the clean and oddly lemon scent that Jonny produced. Within a matter of minutes he was asleep, still holding onto the mass of living flesh and blood that he so dearly loved.

Then, as if all he had done was blink, it was morning and the sun was shining brightly through the open window to the right of the bed. The orange glow of his eyelids disappeared as he lifted them, blinking tiredly, and as he looked around he noticed that Jonny was no longer with him.

Chris meagerly crawled to the other side of the bed, just enough to have Jonny's alarm clock in view. The glowing numbers informed Chris that it was already ten o'clock, and from that he had deduced that Jonny must have left for work.

Eventually he made his way out of the room and into the kitchen, raring to make himself some delicious breakfast, since he was absolutely famished. As he walked by he noticed a small note on the refrigerator that had not been there the previous night, and so he stopped to read it.

Chris-

You've probably figured out that I left for work already. I didn't want to wake you up, because you seemed like you were dead asleep, and you looked so happy like that. So, sorry for not actually saying goodbye to you or anything, but maybe this note will make up for it. GOODBYE CHRIS, I'LL SEE YOU LATER! Mwah!

And fingers crossed, eh? I'm gonna get you that job, I swear.

-Jonny

Chris smiled as he ripped the paper from the fridge, fully intent on stuffing it into his suitcase once he was finished making his food. He was really glad that Jonny was just as weird as he had been when they first met.

“Oh, geez,” Chris sighed as he watched the screen in front of him, a thousand words flashing by every second. His eyes widened and he felt like he was completely in over his head. He felt a firm hand grip his shoulder, and the air around his ear moved as Jonny bent down.

“Chris, it's just loading up. I promise, this stuff's not that hard,” Jonny said. Chris looked over at him with disbelief and for a very brief moment wished he had stayed working downstairs. But then Jonny flashed him a smile, and he knew that he had made the right choice. “Besides, I'm gonna be training you, so you've got nothing to worry about.”

Chris smiled back halfheartedly, and loosened the collar of his white button-down shirt. He actually felt surprisingly warm, but that could have been due to a number of things, one of them being the memory of the celebration he and Jonny had the night before in honor of Chris getting the job. Jonny's hand still resting on his shoulder did nothing to help.

The computer made some sort of noise to inform the men that it was ready to go. Jonny moved his hand and hit a few buttons on the keyboard. On the screen popped up several windows, but Jonny closed all except one.

“Start off with this,” Jonny instructed, pointing to the screen, where Chris noticed what seemed to be rather long and detailed descriptions of the functions of the program he would be using. While reading was never a difficult thing for him, he still felt overwhelmed by the sheer quantity of words before him.

Chris began to read, and after the first paragraph he felt like he needed a break. Jonny had gone back to his own desk, only a few feet from and in view of Chris's cubicle. Chris helplessly glanced over at Jonny, and Jonny, as if he had some sixth sense, also looked up at Chris, and he flashed his smile again.

After ten minutes, Chris had finished with most of the reading. He forced himself to go on, hoping that once he was done, the rest of his work wouldn't be nearly as tedious. As he read the very last line, Jonny walked over.

“How's it going?” he asked. Chris looked at him and sighed.

“Just finished, actually,” Chris replied. He sat back in his chair and let Jonny mess with the computer some more. A new window popped up as the old one was closed, and Jonny began to tell Chris what he had to do.

“You think you can handle that?” Jonny joked, but Chris was not laughing with him. He was staring at the monitor, fervently trying to remember everything Jonny had just said. He was definitely overreacting.

But, as Jonny stood over him and waited for an answer, Chris took a deep breath and fought against the voice in his head telling him You're not ready for this. Thirty minutes was hardly enough time to become a professional, but Chris tried to convince himself that it would be all right.

“Yeah,” he breathed. Jonny, still smiling, bent down and kissed him behind the ear.

“You got this,” he reassuringly said. “And if you need help, I'm right over there. Just remember that.”

“Thank you,” Chris said to him as he looked up. He watched as Jonny walked back to his cubicle, and for a brief moment he had a flashback to his first day of school, watching as his mother quickly abandoned him in a crowd of children. But Jonny wasn't abandoning him, he was still right there. He would always be right there.

Chris turned back to his computer with a newfound confidence. He cracked his knuckles, because it made him feel tougher, and scooted his chair forward to better reach the keyboard. He started doing what Jonny had told him, and he found it surprisingly easy to remember all of it. He was too busy to notice it, but the entire time he was being spied on by Jonny, who felt rather proud as he saw that Chris was no longer the self-doubting kid that he had always known.

Jonny went back to his own work- for five minutes, and then he decided it was time to play solitaire. Even after three years of working in the same position, Jonny could still not properly master the game of solitaire. On average, he won one game for every hundred that he played. It was often discouraging, but he just couldn't give up. He needed to win, and he was sure that he would, even if it only happened once in a great while. If he had ever put that much determination into his real work, he may have been getting paid a lot more than he was now.

Every ten minutes or so he would look up from the computer to first of all make sure that his supervisor wasn't looming around and wouldn't catch him slacking off, but also to inconspicuously monitor Chris. A few hours had passed, and by Jonny's judgment, Chris had done more work than Jonny had in an entire week. He also seemed to be doing it with no problem whatsoever, which was fantastic.

Then one time he looked up and was startled by the presence of Chris, who was standing only a mere foot away from Jonny, biting his nails and looking rather nervous. Jonny figured that Chris had probably done something and thought that he messed up the whole thing, and that he had then come to ask Jonny for help.

“What's wrong?” Jonny asked, trying to sound as concerned as possible, because he actually did like the idea of being able to help Chris.

But Chris shook his head at Jonny, and rather than frowning or looking even more nervous like Jonny had expected, he smiled. “It's eleven-thirty,” he said.

Jonny laughed a little, and he immediately got up from his chair. He grabbed Chris's hand, and they began to make their way out of the building, all the while discussing where they should go for lunch.