Chris Faller is NOT Gay

"No, Chris, move a little to the left -- No. Your other left, dumbass."

Chris ducks his head to the other side, "I don't see why you think this is necessary, Darren."

Chris' hand is fisted in the fabric of his friend's shirt as he leans at an odd angle. Darren's fingers are digging into the soft dirt in his backyard, by means of keeping balance, and his other hand is guiding Chris, tilting his head at different angles and twisting flowers against locks of his hair because "they bring out your eyes."

"Flowers are for girls," Chris whines, but he doesn't make an effort to move away from the boy tangling more flowers against his head, "I'm not a girl."

"Are you calling me a girl?" Darren nudges Chris playfully, and Chris only shrugs in response.

"You might as well be," Chris shifts away and faces the younger boy, "with all your flowers, and all that stuff."

"Or maybe your masculinity is just too fragile," Chris is smiling at Darren, and Darren puts two fingers under Chris' chin to tilt his head up, "it always is with you straight boys."

Chris ducks his head away and leaves Darren's fingers hanging in the air.

Darren doesn't even attempt to mask his disappointment.

Chris somehow doesn't notice the fall in Darren's expression as he shifts.

"You're a bit gay, Darren," he informs, a happy look still on his face.

"Really?" Darren laughs faintly, "I didn't know that. It's a breakthrough, guys! Put it on the news."

"Oh, shut up," Chris laughs, falling on his side and letting his head rest in Darren's lap, "I can't believe you're even real."

"Maybe I'm not," Darren tilts his head, "I could be a figment of your imagination. You've got a pretty gay mind, Faller."

Chris quirks his eyebrow up, and Darren stifles a laugh at the way his face warps. "Quit laughing at me," Chris frowns, "that's rude."

"Are you wounded?" Darren smiles down at Chris, who still has his head in Darren's lap.

"I'm hurt, Darren," Chris offers a smile back. He moves one of his hands to tug a pale flower from his hair and flick it away. Darren takes his hand from where it's anchored in the dirt and hesitantly moves it, interlocking his fingers with Chris'.

"Whoops, we're gay," Darren laughs out, and Chris rolls his eyes, a faint smile playing on his lips.

"m not," he insists. His eyes linger on his hand intertwined with Darren's.

He doesn't move it away. Darren smiles a little wider.

-

There's always been a childish glee about Darren when it comes to certain things. Like, for example, plucking the flowers by the trail alongside his house, finding ones that he can wear in his hair and ones that look right on Chris.

A lot of things Darren does are for Chris.

His fingers are coated with a thin layer of dirt, the dry kind that he encounters often enough to know that it'll fall off and cover his clothes. The thin stems of flowers are gripped in one of his hands, and the other is knocking on Chris Faller's door.

"Darren," Chris rubs at his eye with the palm of his free hand, the other arm holding the door open, "it's two o'clock in the morning. You're lucky my parents are out. Why are you here?"

Darren's eyes flicker to his watch for a moment, and he pushes his hand forwards, "I got you some flowers."

"Thanks," Chris yawns, obviously disinterested, and Darren's face falls. He pushes the flowers towards Chris again, and when Chris doesn't take them from him, he uses his other hand to pry Chris' fingers open and make him hold the flowers.