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the_deep_magic) wrote2010-05-24 09:58 pm
FIC: Star Trek RPS -- Unrequited
Title: Unrequited
Author: ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif){kind=small}
the_deep_magic
Pairing: Pinto
Rating: PG-13 for language
Word Count: 1,521
Warning: heavy angst
Summary: Chris can’t.
A/N: Take the warning and the title seriously. This isn’t the sort of thing I usually write or read, but it just kind of… happened. I promise my next fic will be all kinds of porny and fluffy!
As soon as their lips parted, Zach knew they’d been fooling themselves.
“I can’t,” Chris said, his hands dropping from Zach’s shoulders. There was real pain in his voice. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t apologize,” Zach said quickly.
“It’s not that I don’t want to. I thought that maybe… if I could for anyone—”
“Chris, don’t.”
“—it would be you, you know that. If I could choose—”
“Please stop.” Zach stepped back. If the words we can still be friends came out of Chris’ mouth, Zach was going to be sick. “I can deal with this. But I really can’t analyze it right now.”
Chris froze and nodded. “I guess I should go.”
“That’s probably… Yeah, you should,” Zach mumbled, no longer able to look Chris in the eye.
“I’m sor— I mean, I’ll see you tomorrow.” Chris gave a weak attempt at a smile and turned to go.
Zach sat down on the couch and didn’t move for a long time.
&&&
The next day on set, Chris was perfect. He didn’t bring it up or try to apologize again. He gave Zach his space without being obvious. He even helped deflect Zoe’s questions about Zach’s inability to concentrate. When Zach got to the craft services table late after a dozen extra retakes and all that was left were sickly-looking grapes and a few slices of bloody roast beef, Chris came by and wordlessly handed Zach a plate. A turkey sandwich with avocado and sprouts – the kind that always ran out first. He would have had to physically hide it to hold on to it this long.
If Chris had laughed in his face or shoved him away and called him a disgusting fag, it wouldn’t hurt half as much as this, Chris’ silent apology for what he couldn’t be. If he had been an asshole, Zach could’ve gotten righteously angry, gotten drunk, and gotten the hell over it. As it was, Zach couldn’t even be angry with himself. There was no point; it wasn’t like he let himself fall in love with Chris, like it was something that could’ve been prevented. The only way around it would’ve been to quit Star Trek after Chris was cast and there was no way Zach could regret being a part of the movie. He couldn’t even find anything to regret about his relationship with Chris. What could he have possibly done differently? Turned down Chris’ offer to run lines and play video games? Spent time laughing with someone else over Chris’ tumble over the captain’s chair?
Maybe that was what hurt so badly – the utter inevitability of it. They were always going to meet, Zach was always going to fall in love, and Chris was always going to turn him down with heartbreaking gentleness and that look of utter shame in his eyes.
“I can’t. If I could for anyone…”
Zach forced down a few bites of the sandwich, not hungry but not sure when he’d get another chance to eat. Somewhere behind him, he heard Chris’ laugh, overly loud and braying as always, and his gut clenched painfully. Not because Chris was happy and he wasn’t – Zach would have to be some kind of ogre to wish this kind of misery on him – but because he couldn’t make Chris happy. Not the way he wanted to.
“I can’t, Zach.”
He nearly jumped out of his skin when a production assistant tapped him on the shoulder. “I’m sorry, Mr. Quinto, but Mr. Abrams needs you on set.”
Zach took a last look at the sandwich and, checking to make sure Chris couldn’t see, threw it in the trash.
&&&
“What’s up, bro?”
“I told him,” Zach gritted out, fingers so tight around the phone his knuckles were turning white.
“Great! And?”
“And he’s straight, Joe.”
“Like, completely straight?”
“I knew that. I don’t know what I was expecting.”
“What did he say exactly?”
“That he couldn’t. That he wanted to, but he couldn’t.”
“Oh.” There was a long pause over the phone line before Joe spoke again. “Maybe if he has some time to think about it—”
“It’s not a fucking choice he can make.”
“Zach, I know that,” Joe said patiently. Apparently Zach couldn’t even pick a fight with his own brother. “It came out wrong. Just… is there any chance?”
He could hardly bring himself to say the word. “No.”
“Shit. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have pushed you to tell him, but I really thought—”
“Me too.”
“Well, I guess… now you know. Maybe you can move on.”
Zach ground his teeth together – Joe was just trying to help. And eventually, Zach would be glad that he’d taken the chance. He wouldn’t have to wonder what could have been. Right? “Yeah, Joe, I will.”
“God, this fucking sucks,” Joe sighed. “But you’ll be okay.”
“Yeah.”
&&&
Zach would’ve probably ignored the doorbell at three in the morning if it hadn’t set Noah off – he seemed to remember his guard dog duties at the oddest times. By the time he opened the door, a figure in a blue hoodie was retreating down the walk. “Chris?”
Chris turned around slowly. As he came back toward the door, Zach could see he looked exhausted, his eyes rimmed with red. But still beautiful – always beautiful. He stumbled coming back up the walk and as he got nearer, Zach could smell the alcohol on him.
“M’sorry,” Chris said, sounding much more sober than he smelled. “I shouldn’t have come here. It seemed like a good idea when I was drunker.”
Zach stepped outside and looked around for Chris’ car. “Did you walk here?”
Chris nodded pathetically. “Couldn’t drive. I shouldn’t— I’ll go.”
Zach grabbed him by the arm before he could leave. “I’m not going to make you stagger back to your apartment in the middle of the night,” he grumbled. “Get in here.”
Chris came docilely along as Zach dragged him inside and sat him on the couch. Zach sighed. “I’m going to get you some water. Stay put.”
When he came back from the kitchen, Chris had toed off his godawful clogs and was curled in a ball against the armrest. Zach gently pried a hand loose and gave him the glass of water, staring at him expectantly until he took a few sips. When it was clear he wouldn’t drink anymore, Zach took the glass back and set it aside. “Feel like talking?”
Chris shook his head but couldn’t hold it in. “One of my best friends from college, he was still living in San Francisco. There was a car accident, and he… he was only 28. He had a kid, Zach. A nine-month-old son.”
By then he had started crying again, and though every self-preserving instinct he had screamed at him to stop, Zach reached out and pulled Chris into his arms. He couldn’t stand to see Chris in pain. “I’m so sorry. That’s horrible.”
Chris’ body shook with a sob. “We barely talked since his son was born. And now he’s gone.” He buried his face in Zach’s shoulder, and Zach carefully leaned backwards and turned so they were lying side by side on the couch. “I’m sorry,” Chris murmured. “I know I shouldn’t have come here. I’m taking advantage of you.”
“No,” Zach whispered, rubbing Chris’ back. Beneath the booze and sweat, he could smell the unmistakable scent of Chris and he selfishly drank it in. “It’s okay. I’m right here.”
Chris was so warm and pliant as he clung to Zach even tighter, slowly crying himself out. Their bodies fit together perfectly on the couch, their legs tangled together and arms around each other. Zach couldn’t believe how calm he was. He’d never been prone to emotional displays, but he’d always sort of imagined he’d cry or rage or scream when his heart finally broke. Instead, he just felt strangely empty, distant from his own body even as he held Chris as close as a lover.
In the morning, when Chris would stand on slightly shaky legs and give Zach a sad but deeply grateful smile as he left, Zach knew he was going to hate himself. He’d spend the rest of the day – probably the rest of the week – remembering every detail of Chris’ body against his. He’d be unable to sleep in his own bed, and despite silently flaying himself for his weakness, he’d end up on the couch, burying his face in the cushions to try to catch some lingering trace of Chris’ scent.
It couldn’t go on like that for long, Zach knew. He’d either go crazy with it or he’d slowly begin to heal. Filming wouldn’t last forever, and the break before the press tour would give him some time. Every wound eventually stopped hurting, if given enough time.
But for now, he pressed against Chris like a sore tooth, perversely enjoying the pain since he was helpless to stop it. Chris’ crying had stopped, his gasps and hiccups quieting into steady breaths. His grip on Zach loosened as he slid into sleep, but Zach just held him tighter while he still could.
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