Comfortable Silence |Virgato|

Chapter 23

Joel has never understood how people can make dramatic life changes, just like that. One day, they just decide to quit smoking, or start running five miles every morning, and then they just do. If it were that easy, Joel would be invincible. Because he does want to be better in so many ways, but wanting it isn't enough. Trying isn't enough. It's hard and it's painful and it's frustrating.

But something shifts inside him after his talk with Chris. The final piece of the engine clicks into place, and suddenly he's revved up, sparks under his skin and control at his fingertips.

So naturally, he goes to Target, caffeinated and ready to shop like his life depends on it.

He's got all this energy humming inside him, and he needs to do something with it. He's going to be the purest version of himself he can be, which means not pausing to question himself or second guess as he whips through the aisles in the crafting department, a tropical storm blowing debris into his shopping basket in the form of glittery stickers and washi tape.

He's so focused he doesn't even stray to the other sections of the store before he checks out. He might regret it later, when he gets home and realizes his bread is moldy or he's nearly out of toothpaste, but right now, it doesn't matter. He's living in the damn moment.

It's exhilarating.

Nineties dance hits soundtrack his morning as he works, sitting cross-legged on the floor next to the coffee table with his supplies spread out across the top and his third iced coffee of the day sweating onto the teal rug a few inches from his left knee. The opening notes of Ooh Aah... Just a Little Bit play over his Bluetooth speaker and he dissolves into hysterical laughter.

Chris has made him insane. Completely mad. But he's having fun.

When he's done, several hours later, he stares at his work, trying to choke down the laugh that wants to explode out of him. He fails, laughing loudly, extremely aware that he probably looks like he's losing his mind, but he doesn't care. It's fucking funny and absurd, and the idea of putting this little project in Chris's hands makes Joel topple over with the force of his laughter. He's alone in his living room, literally rolling on the floor, stomach sore from laughing, tears streaming from his eyes, and he couldn't be happier.

The buzz of his phone against the tabletop startles Joel out of his fit of laughter and he snatches it up, irrationally worried that somehow whoever is texting him can see his descent into madness.

Chris: What's so funny?

Joel: You can hear me?

Chris: Yes I can, and it's making me extremely insecure.

Joel: Come over and see.

There's barely enough time for Joel to heave himself off the floor before Chris is coming through the balcony door. "What's so funny?" he demands again, looking suspiciously around the apartment.

Joel shrugs casually. "I made you something."

"You did?" Chris is almost shy about it at first, then a little dubious when he asks, sniffing the air. "A pie?"

Lips pressed in a firm line, Joel shakes his head and pulls the scrapbook out from behind his back, holding it out for Chris without fanfare. "Not a pie."

"What's this?" Chris takes the scrapbook out of Joel's hands, studying the cover, and Joel can see the exact moment Chris realizes what he's dealing with, eyes growing wide and wild. "Joel! Did you make me a scrapbook of your ass?" He looks up, gaze dancing excitedly over Joel's face.

"I did." Raising his chin in acknowledgement, Joel gestures proudly at the cover - a photo he'd just taken this morning of his backside covered in black boxer briefs with glittery stickers spelling I ❤️ Chris hastily fixed to the fabric, curving in an arc to frame his ass.

"What the fuck?" Chris squeaks incredulously, running his fingers over the photo with a degree of tenderness that seems to indicate he's treating the photo exactly as he would treat Joel's actual ass.

Joel can feel it bubbling up in his chest. The uncontrollable, gasping laughter from before, rearing its ugly head before Chris has even had a chance to process what's happening. He tries to hold it back, relieving the building pressure with a few silent snickers as Chris sinks to the floor next to the door and opens the scrapbook.

Eagerly, Joel sits down next to him at a sideways angle, so he can easily see both what Chris is looking at and the reaction on his face as he pages through it all. Chris's face is always expressive but watching him take in Joel's masterpiece of self-times photos and amateur crafting feels like a journey through the full range of human emotion.

He laughs uncontrollably at Joel's captions and handiwork with stickers and stamps. "Oh my God! The peaches!" He wheezes, slapping one hand against his mouth, pressing a finger over one of the dozens of peach stickers Joel littered throughout the pages of the scrapbook. "Amazing," he murmurs, catching his breath, then staring at Joel with sudden seriousness. "But not as amazing as your ass."

He shrieks in alarm when he flips to page three and hits the completely nude photo where Joel drew a winky face lower back tattoo in black Sharpie. "Is that still there?" Chris asks urgently, reaching out a hand to try to lift up the back of Joel's shirt. Joel bats it away, an incredibly unconvincing pout on his lips.

He grunts and goes hazy-eyes when he hits the page where Joel attempted some over-the-top boudoir-style poses, which is fucking hilarious, because Joel looks ridiculous in those pictures - he knows he looks ridiculous, that's the whole point! - but despite the undeniable silliness of it all, they're still making Chris starry-eyed.

He breathes out a quiet oh, eyes soft and lips pinching together into a wistful little frown, when he gets to the final page - Joel sprawled out on his stomach on his couch, arms folded under the teal throw pillow cradling his head, wearing the jeans. The one that were so tempting to Chris, he had to get his hands on Joel. The ones that made Chris feel like a juicy blueberry pie.

It's actually kind of sweet that he's reacting this way. Sort of. Maybe. But in this moment, it might be the funniest fucking thing Joel has ever seen, watching Chris get misty over various poorly framed photos of Joel's ass. He can't stop laughing, breathless and teary, folding himself in half and laughing into his lap as he slumps toward Chris.

"I'm having a fucking moment here, Joel," Chris squeaks, nudging Joel away with his shoulder. "And you're just laughing at me." He tries to look mournful, but it doesn't last, snuffed out quickly by his own burst of laughter as he watches Joel losing his mind next to him.

The way he's looking at Joel through his laughter - slightly mystified, but completely enamored - it seems like maybe Chris's delight has more to do with Joel's hysterical laughter than the ass scrapbook.

But actually, that might be even better.

"It's just so stupid." Joel shakes his head, laughter tapering off as he stares at the edge of the scrapbook page until his vision starts blurring around the border of peaches and hearts.

"Yeah, it is," Chris replies fondly. Joel doesn't have to look up to know Chris is smiling at him. The stickers disappear when Chris snaps the scrapbook shut and hugs it against his chest. "Best gift I've ever gotten. I'll treasure it forever."

Joel looks up in time to catch the smile he knew was on Chris's face for a split second before the scrapbook is set aside and Chris's arms wrap around his shoulders, tackling him to the floor and grabbing wildly at his shirt. "Now let me see your tramp stamp."