CHAPTER 1

"And the winner is…" Rachel Brosnahan started, trying to rip open the black envelope. "Darren Criss, 'The Assassination Of Gianni Versace'!"

The audience began to cheer, to bellow with excitement. The winning was perfectly justified and very well-deserved.

Darren sat in place for a few seconds, unable to move, still processing the announcement. Ricky, who was sitting right behind him, jumped out of his chair and started shouting uncontrollably. Darren took a deep breath before he finally stood up and gave a zealous kiss to his fiancée Mia, who was already standing next to him, cheering loudly and looking more proud and happy than ever.

Darren walked to the stage, quickly closing one button of his blazer as the crowd kept rooting for him. Rachel handed him the award and Larry David shook his hand with a big, proud smile on his face. Darren thanked them and as they moved aside, he turned towards the audience.

"Oh, my God. You guys are witnessing the most extraordinary moment of my life thus far, so this is pretty cool," he started his speech with a slightly agitated, shaky voice, then letting out a nervous chuckle.

"I'm so very privileged to be in this room among so many people that inspire the living crap out of me, and I'm so honored to be nominated. A lot of you guys I have been a fan of for such a long time."

He stopped for a brief moment to even his voice before he continued. "Actors are really only as good as the moments they are given, at the moments they are granted, and so I am so profoundly indebted to my friend, Ryan Murphy, for entrusting me with this opportunity of a lifetime and for believing in me."

Darren was speaking fast, his whole being was the actual definition of nervousness.

"I hope that the people from the show can forgive me, I will thank you later. I have to thank some family. Uh, Ricky. Look where we are, man. Michael, I think you worked harder on this than I did. Mom, dad, Chuck, unlike the character I played I was lucky enough to be raised in a home that was very loving and emphasized the value of hard work, compassion and not taking yourself too seriously. You are at the root of why I'm here. And to my darling Mia…"

Darren paused again for a moment to gather himself. The tears weren't far from falling. "You roll the windows down and pump the music up in my life and I'm so thankful for you, I'm so lucky to have you," the man went on while looking straight into his girl's eyes with so much love and gratitude in his voice.

"Congratulations to all of you, thank you to the Television Academy and, uh… Go Blue!" Darren finished his speech, smiling widely and lifting the award to the air once again. With the obstreperous, supporting cheering from the audience, he got off of the stage and walked to the backroom with all the other recent Emmy winners.

As his dark gray-colored suit disappeared from the sight, one Christopher Colfer got up among the crowd. He looked around, panicky, and then rushed to the men's room.

Chris locked the door behind him and leaned against it with his arms folded. He put his head down and closed his eyes. Tears rolled down his cheek as he banged the door with his fists.

What was he thinking agreeing to go to the event, alone? A stupid, stupid, stupid decision.

"Is everything okay?"

Chris quickly turned around, startled, and wiped his eyes. "Y-Yeah, yeah."

An old lady stepped out of one of the stalls, walked to the sink and turned on the faucet.

"Holy shit, Betty White," Chris muttered, staring at the woman washing her hands.

"So, who won?" Ms. White asked, ripping paper hand towels from the hand towel holder.

"Oh, uh, Darren Criss."

"Huh. Good for him," the lady sneered. She took one final look at the mirror and then walked toward the door.

"I, uh… Isn't this… Men's room?"

Ms. White turned to look at him with a cunning smile. "I won't tell if you don't."

Chris chuckled nervously and watched her walk out of the bathroom. He then took a deep breath and walked to the mirror, leaning toward the sink. He stared at his reflection, his red eyes and pale skin. He sniffled. His whole pathetic, sad being disgusted him. How could've he been such an idiot? Why had he thought that a night out alone with a bunch of gifted, remarkable people would get his mind off of everything that was stressing him out, when in reality all it really did, was bringing back all the already forgotten things. The things from his past, the things he had sworn to himself to take to his grave.

Chris pressed his face against his hands and yelled as hard as he could. His head was pounding, his heart racing insanely. He looked back at the mirror letting out a deep, long sigh of frustration. He locked the door again, pushed his back against it and slowly slid down onto the floor, pulling his knees to his chest.

His head was tumbling with thoughts, memories. A warm tear fell from his eye. He didn't know why he was getting so emotional, he couldn't even remember the last time he had cried. This wasn't like him, not at all. He wasn't the type of guy who bemoaned his past or old, bad choices. He was the happy, amusing guy who made everyone else feel good and comfortable. Being gay didn't make him a weeper.

"Wow, this is... Rueful," Chris chuckled sarcastically as he shook his head.

He sat on the floor in complete silence for almost fifteen minutes before he finally decided that it was time to man up and go back to the auditorium. He got up on his feet, breathed out loudly, opened the door and stepped out to the gloomy, noisy hallway.

At the doorway of the auditorium he stopped. He took a look at the people. Everyone seemed so merry, so enthusiastic, genuinely delighted. Chris sighed and turned around. He wasn't going back there. He didn't look like one of them and he certainly didn't feel like one of them, either. He walked back to the hallway, chose a direction at random and kept on going. At the end of the aisle he took left and fastened the pace. Suddenly he noticed a bright light coming from the end of that corridor. He puckered his brows as he

came closer.

"Okay, okay. Great job," he heard a man praising in a room at the end of the hallway. "Let's take another one right here, shall we? Matthew?"

Chris peeked carefully over the wall. The room was full of people. And not just any people, this year's prodigious Emmy winners. He pushed his back against the wall and closed his eyes.

Shit.

He tried to even his breathing when he heard footsteps approaching. His eyes slammed open.

Shit, shit, shit.

There was no time to escape, no time to fake his own death.

"Excuse me, sir. You can't be in here." An angry-looking photographer was staring right at him with his arms on his hips. "I need to ask you to leave. This is a private photoshoot."

Chris turned his gaze at him, flashing him the widest, most fake smile of his entire life.

"I'm sorry," he said.

That part was true. Disturbing an important task hadn't definitely been his intention.

"I just got a little lost. I, uh... I think I had a bit too much to drink," he chuckled nervously.

Not so true.

The photographer didn't laugh, he didn't even smile. The only expression he seemed to have, contained an annoyed frown and wrathful eyes.

"Well, could you, like, get lost from here, too? We're kind of busy and I wouldn't like to bother the security. They love watching the show live."

"Yeah, yeah. I think so. Thank you," Chris replied with a nervous tense voice, smiling. This time, the smile was real. Crisis avoided.

As the man returned to the backroom, Chris turned to leave. He was ready to go home, roll up in his bed and lie there until today would be a distant memory.

"Chris?"

Chris stopped. He'd recognize the voice anywhere, there's no doubt. It was the voice of upcoming trouble, the voice from his past. Loud and clear. Darren.

"Darren!" he turned around with the same smile on his face he'd flashed to the photographer. "What a pleasant surprise."

Darren scrunched his eyebrows. "You don't have to... Do that face, it looks... A little creepy."

Chris coughed, ashamed. "Y-Yeah, sorry."

An awkward quiet filled the hallway. The two stared at each other, not really knowing what to say. It had been three years since they'd last been alone together somewhere.

Darren was the first one to break the silence, as always. "So, you, uh... Wasn't enjoying the show?"

"No, no, I think it was great. I just... I wasn't feeling that well."

"And now?"

Chris sighed. "Even worse."

Darren let out a light laugh. "I've always admired your honesty, Colfer."

There it was, his kryptonite. The laugh, the voice, Colfer. The way he said his name gave Chris goosebumps.

"I-I have to go."

The look on Darren's face was almost disappointed. "Chris, wait!"

Chris turned around. "What?"

"Where are you going?"

"I'm going home, Darren. There's nothing for me here anymore."

Darren quieted down for a few seconds before he replied. "I'm here."

Chris' heart made a somersault in his chest.

"I mean it. Let's go somewhere. To talk."

"But… What about your picture? The party? You won an Emmy, for Christ's sake! Everyone's expecting to see you at the afterparty."

"Hey, I could really use some Chris time, alright. You have the ability to help me keep my feet on the ground. Besides, that guy already got like thousand pictures of me, I'm sure there's at least one that's somewhat usable."

"Are you sure that's what you want? Isn't your girlfriend gonna be worried?"

"Mia? Nah, she's good. She doesn't need me keeping her company, don't worry."

"Oh, I-I wasn't."

Darren laughed. "Can I at least buy you a drink? For old times' sake."

Chris stared at him. His body was telling him no, his mind was telling him to go home. But his heart was in confusion. The old memories came rushing back; all the late night dinners, the deep conversations, the pranks they used to pull on each other. All the fooling around, being complete dorks together, messing with other members of the cast. And maybe it was the shitty night or the good memories. Maybe it was Darren's smile or the way just him standing there mad Chris' body tingle. Maybe it was all of those things. Whatever it was, it convinced Chris that there was only one right answer.

"Okay."