The world is small and crazy in New York and you, Darren Criss, love every second. You love the rush that never stop and the constant cab horns. You love the big city buildings but you also love the secrets of New York; the small bars and hidden walkways that wind through streets and above roads. In particular there is one place that sticks in your heart. It's an old railway track transformed into a garden. It is lined with artworks and sculptures that both confuse you and astound you. It's your favourite place in New York.
Some days you like to sit and look at one painting on a wall. It's a rainbow version of the famous Times Square Kiss. The colours collide and spread across the wall and you wonder how long it took the artist to create. Were they there for weeks on end, just perfecting their masterpiece? Or was it planned and co-ordinated with many people helping? Either way, it's a place you like to be. You often take your guitar there with you. Just to write a few lyrics and test some chords. See, this place inspires you; it's quiet in the city that never sleeps.
One day, you notice a man sitting on a bench about 30 metres away. He has a book in his hands and glasses perched on his nose. His hair is clearly coiffed with gel but small strands are dangling in front of his eyes as he reads and no matter how many times he brushes them back they still seem to fall back. The sun is setting in the background and you think you may have found something new to inspire you; the way the sun captures this man. His eyes stay firmly focused on the book but as the sun starts to go down and the light turns red, he leaves. His book is placed in his bag and you are left staring at an empty bench. A gardener wanders along and tells you it's almost time for them to lock up 'The High Line'. You sling your guitar over your shoulder and walk back to your empty apartment reminiscing over lost chances. That evening your write a particularly sad song but somehow the image of the gentle man framed by setting sun still seems to work its way into the lyrics.
It is nearly a week before you managed to get back to your favourite spot. It hasn't changed; the painting is still there and the bench is still cold metal but it feels different. It's not just yours anymore because the man with the glasses and gelled hair is there in the same place. You know that maybe you will have to learn to share this place but in all honesty, you don't really mind because this man is stunning and you have always appreciated beautiful things. For a while you sit with your guitar and look at the painting on the wall just strumming gently chords but eventually your eyes dart towards the book-man. He must have a name but what is it? Maybe it's a bit of a strange and wonderful name like he appears or maybe it is contrasting name and ordinary. As you look at this man, who is now scribbling quickly on a page of a notebook you begin to take the first steps to love. It's not lust but it's a different kind of want, where you want to take this man into your arms and listen to him breath. So, maybe it's a bit creepy to think that about a complete stranger but he seems different and you can't seem to work out why. Eventually your phone beeps and you have to go and find an open shop that will sell saxophone reeds at 10pm at night. You take one last look at the boy before heading the opposite direction, missing the look that the man gives you as you walk away.
The next day, you're both there; you on your bench opposite the painting and him, on his bench with his notebook and novel. Today, you last a little longer before indulging yourself in the appearances of the man before you. He is wearing a white t-shirt with beige chinos that are just a little too short for his endless legs. You continue to strum on your guitar, playing notes that seem to create a soundtrack for the scene perfectly.
Over the following weeks, you continue to visit the bench everyday and the chinos man is there without fail almost every day; except one day. One day he just doesn't turn up, no matter how long you stay. Your favourite place is no longer your favourite place without him there. He brings it to life and when he doesn't show, your heart breaks just a little. It's a repairable break but it still hurts when it happens.
However, he is back the next day with tear stained cheeks and empty eyes. He has no book and no notes to make. He just sits and stares for a while at the road in front of him. You try to avoid staring too much because it's not fair to take advantage of a beautiful, broken soul. The sun streams behind him and he still appears breathtaking even with a clearly broken heart. That day your heart breaks with his and you cry yourself to sleep because he doesn't deserve any pain, whoever he is.
You have a three night stint at a local bar where you play too many Disney songs and drink too many beers. It gives you a chance to recover from a heartbreak you didn't experience. The crowds are cheerful and some of them sing along after a few shots. It's a nice break from the intensity of the painting.
When you go back, the man is there still. He has is notebook with him and he is smiling to himself. You smile with him and you mean for the first time since the tear stained cheeks; maybe his heart was fixable too. As you are staring, he turns and looks at you. You smile at him but don't look away and neither does he. You look a little more and take in his eyes. They are ice blue with warmth that shouldn't look right but does anyway. His smile is wide and unguarded or at least it appears to be. He speaks loudly in order to be heard over the distant traffic.
"Has anyone ever told you it's rude to stare?" And that's when you begin to fall so hard and fast that you're not sure how to stop anymore. It whisks you up and you live in a whirlwind for a second. His voice is soft and you're not quite sure how to respond until he laughs and you can't help but join in. The noise is music to your ears and you realise that you never want it to stop. You stop laughing and reply very simply.
"Can I join you?" He nods and gestures to his right. His books are scattered on the floor around his feet and you have to pick your way around them. You sit down on the cold seat and smile at the man next to you. He is even more stunning up close; his freckles trickle down his nose and his eyelashes flutter down his cheeks when he blinks. He smiles at you and you have to look away. When you do, you stop breathing. The view from this bench is new and refreshing. It looks directly down a street and you can see New York for miles. The cabs weave in and out of each other and people hurry down the sidewalk.
"It's beautiful." You breathe out softly. He turns and looks down the street as well and sighs.
"Yes. It's my little haven. Although it never seemed quite right while the curly haired man with the guitar was away." The man said and smiled so that his eyes lit up.
"And my place never seems quite right without a man with a notebook." You reply and look directly at this man. "What's your name? I've always wondered." The man laughed and his eyes crinkled in a way you have never seen before.
"Well, wonder no longer. I'm Chris. Hi." The man-no, Chris- stuck his hand out and you grab it. His hands are soft and his grip is strong but comforting. You lock eyes and something happens; it's like a shift in the universe.
"Darren. Hi." You introduce yourself whilst still holding onto his hands. Somehow introductions seem wrong; you feel like you know Chris already. You've seen him nearly every day for the past 3 months and in your head you know him but in reality you don't. You talk for a while about music and books because that's all you really know. You ask for his number and two days later you go on a date and finally realise what the fluttering in your stomach is.
You fall so hard and so fast that you are admitting your love within a few weeks. This man came and took over your life and you don't know who to get it back.
That's why, the following winter you are on 'The High Line' in the freezing cold looking for a man with coiffed hair; the love of your life. He had walked away after an argument. It was a stupid argument that had ended it threats and vicious insults. You find him though; shivering on his bench. You sit on yours and look at him. The snow falls around him as his tears mimic the movement. You've never loved anyone the way you love him in that moment. "I love you!" You shout at the painting and Chris turns to look at you. "I love you more than anything in the world. Please come back to me." And he does; he gets up and walks towards you. He sits next to you on your bench and looks at the rainbow Time Square Kiss. "This is where I fell in love with you. You fascinated me and I wanted to love you. It is honour you let me love you and I wouldn't change it for the world." You whisper into the snow falling.
"I fell in love here too and I still love you, even with the stupid arguments" You look at this man, this stunning man who used to carry notebooks but now carries your heart as well. He has snow in his hair and on his eyelashes. The sunlight is blocked out by the clouds and there is no sunset and his hair is sticking out at funny angles but you have never seen a more beautifully, breathtaking person in your entire life. In that moment, you realised you're going to spend the rest of your life with this man, no matter how many stupid things try to get in your way and you wouldn't have it any other way.
In another world, Chris and Darren may meet at work on a popular TV show and they may fall in love. Both stories are beautiful but this one is different and starts with a man with glasses and a book.