Sorry, it took me so long. Been struggling with hard-to-write parts. Anyway, it's still Jill's b-day and there's still lots of crap to happen.
Who's up for following Chris on his way out MD?
Chapter 26 – Downtown Ally (2 of 2)
Part 4 – Lone wolf
The square wasn't much less crammed and animated than inside Moon's Donuts, but the little fresh air chilling his face and lungs was the breather Chris needed in that moment.
He'd walked only a few steps into the plaza when he stopped, a standing young man in a likewise young crowd. He extracted a Lone Wolf cigarettes pack from his pocket, took one and tucked it between his fleshy lips.
Give or take, there were about a hundred people clustered in small groups between the square, the wayside tables and the broad double staircase but Chris couldn't help feeling like the lone wolf of the situation. A situation he'd mostly arranged all by himself and that rebounded on him mercilessly. Because Leon had been testing him, the ginger douche had gone even further, but the one coming off as the bad guy was him! And now he was standing among strangers, lonesome and annoyed, wondering what the hell had he done wrong.
Screening the white tobacco roll with his cupped hands, he flicked the lighter until it flared up and lighted up the cigarette. Releasing the first dense waft, he began strolling towards the stairs. His look idly glided upon the several neon lights that embellished the building's walls enclosing the lowered plaza, the bright colours contrasting with the gloom inside him.
Drawn like a moth, he walked up to the lamppost on his left, opposite Jim's Crabs, and he settled in there, slanting against the short pillar, facing where he'd come from – some innate instinct suggested him not to turn his back to Moon's Donuts and the trouble-seeking motherfuckers inside it.
In a night in which everyone seemed to only want to piss him off, that spot was lonely enough for him to enjoy his smoke, free from any pain in the ass.
Chris wasn't even at his third puff that he eyed the seafoam-green door of Moon's Donuts crack open and he couldn't help but wish that turd of Steve was after him looking for the special treatment he deserved. Jaw clenching, Chris almost foretasted the sour bloody tang of a good old fistfight. His hands and knuckles already tickled in expectation, but he was left with nothing more than an unfulfilled satisfaction and surprise as he saw none less than Jill step out the door.
The girl seemed to be looking around for someone.
It didn't take a genius to know she was after him. Only then, Chris realized how rude of him it'd been to leave, if Jill herself had come to bring him back to her party.
To spare her any further research, the bulky boy waved a hand in the air until the brunette spotted him. Jill nodded and started making her way to him, gracefully dodging people. Chris suspected his behaviour had made more than one eyebrow quirk, and he truly didn't entertain the idea of justifying himself, his reaction and his leaving. He just hoped Jill would simply call to retrieve him back inside.
Jill swayed closer and, when she was only a few steps away, she stretched a smile. "So, my two slaps weren't enough to teach you how to deal with rude guys, I suppose." She said in her womanly voice.
The remains of Chris's frown blurred into a scoff. "Looks like you suppose well."
"Want some private lessons?"
"Oh no, please! Spare me!" Chris giggled, snorting out a puff of smoke.
"I can tutor you for free. Just saying." Jill bantered.
"I'll keep that in mind." Chris smiled. "But my cheeks are good, thanks."
The boy was quite surprised by the unhoped-for friendliness Jill was regarding him with. He'd never seen her smile or act like that – certainly not recently and certainly not around him. She'd never been that chummy and outgoing not even when he'd been Claire and she was oblivious of his presence. Wasn't he dead sure she and all the other girls had ordered only iced-lattes, he'd have surely suspected Jill had drunk anything that might have softened her, not necessarily legal stuff. He wondered if she was acting like that solely not to tickle the bad temper he'd shown moments before. He was a grown-up, no need to be babied. And hell, he didn't need to be retrieved either.
As if she'd somehow read his mind and guessed his wondering, Jill involuntarily replied to his unspoken questions.
"I just wanted to say thank you, by the way." The girl uttered, taking a step forward. "I saw your name on the card."
"Oh, you're welcome!" He said, remindful that he'd participated in the collective gift even though he hadn't been invited. It had been his specific request, which Claire had enthusiastically sided and favoured. Beyond any expectation, such metaphoric olive branch had borne its fruits at last.
Uneasy, Jill squeezed herself in her own arms and tugged the sleeves all the way down on her hands, as though her cute sky-blue dress was too thin for a November night to be worn without her black leather jacket. Not that she did anything to hint at her discomfort though. Tough girl. Chris moved a little aside, silently inviting Jill to come closer and make herself comfortable in the bright warmness of the lamp.
"Remind me what exactly we've given you, by the way." Chris laughed while sucking smoke through the filter. He was certain that Jill knew he didn't have a say in the gift choice, so no surprise he totally ignored what it consisted of.
Jill chuckled and shook her head as she didn't expect any less from him. "A diary."
"And what is it made of? Gold?" Chris snorted. "Has it freaking diamonds on the cover?"
To dissimulate her bashful embarrassment, Jill tucked a short strand of hair behind her ear. "What?" She chuckled in confusion.
"Look, I don't want to reveal any detail but… Six people collecting money for a gift and… only a diary?! There must be something special about it!"
Jill exhaled and short laugh and upcasted her eyes to the sky trying to recall details. "Oh, well, first of all, it has a lock…"
"Guess you won't need to remember the combination then, Miss Lockpicker!" Chris giggled, flicking the cigarette to shake off the ash.
Jill tittered, hoping Chris wouldn't allusively comment – as Rebecca had been doing all along instead – about being so secretive that she'd only entrust a lockable diary to keep her confidences. "The girls also hid inside tickets for the Big-E homecoming concert!"
"Better." Chris nodded, taking a puff. "Now it sounds quite like a worthy present."
"It is."
"I know the girls chose it, but I hope you like it, anyway." Chris said.
"Oh, I do! Thank you." Jill smiled. "I love journaling, you know."
"I know." Chris eagerly nodded. "I remember it."
Jill let her quirking eyebrows reply on her behalf. Yeah, Chris knew. Still feeling weird.
As the corner of his eye noticed a numerous group of pre-teens walk down the stairs, Chris invited Jill to settle somewhere more comfortable and less in the way. Leaving behind a trail of smoke, they settled below the window of Rich Clothes store, under the haughty eye of the elegantly clad mannequins.
"God, are they, like, sixth graders?" Jill commented as she inspected the group who had just replaced them by the lamppost. "Do their parents let them go out and stay up this late? When I was their age, I-"
Chris snorted and released a short laugh. "Hey, you've just turned sixteen! Don't you start with the back-in-my-days whole thing already!"
"Guess you're right." Jill laughed. "I'll wait until I'll turn 30."
"You said it."
The two youngsters shared a few moments in silence, in which both preferred to look at the surrounding crowd. Chris took advantage of the break and nicotine to try and put his thoughts in order. Despite how Jill was making an effort to be friendly to him, he knew there was still a load of unresolved trouble between them. Maybe the time had come for him to do what he ought to have done long ago.
"Jill, I…" Chris faltered. It was harder than he imagined. To gain himself a little time, he took a drag and forcefully blew the smoke out through his nose. He clenched his jaw and shifted on his feet, trying to give himself a dignity he felt he'd lost days prior in the girl's eyes. He waited until Jill looked at him, then he spoke, serious. "For what it's worth, I'm sorry about what happened in the shower."
The girl shook her head. She kind of expected that ghost to be resurrected from the past. It was inevitable, especially if she and Chris would be alone together, like then. Honestly, she wasn't much disappointed it'd been brought back. She felt like Chris owed her some fat excuses. She just didn't want to look eager to get them. "It's fine. I see it must've been hard for you…"
"I also want to apologise about all the… crappy things I said." Chris muttered, fulfilling Jill's expectations all at once. "I was a total asshole."
"Yeah, that's about the size of it, actually." Jill agreed.
"I don't know what… why I said what I said." Chris continued. "I just wish I didn't. It's just…" A sequence of headshakes trailed him into a discouraged sigh.
Chris couldn't find the words to describe what had happened in his head on that Tuesday afternoon, since everything sounded too much like a justification of any sort. And he knew his attitude was unjustifiable. He just hoped Jill got the gist of what he struggled to say, accepted his apologies and just forgot the whole thing.
Conversely, the girl incited him to go on as she seemed quite desirous now to hear more. "It's just…?"
"It's just… I was dying in shame and my brain went haywire." Chris admitted with a smelly and smoky sigh of surrender.
Chris Redfield in shame! That's news for everyone!
Chuckling and prone to a little revenge, the girl attempted an impression of him. "I am Chris and it happens that I am a boy…" She laughed at Chris's ashamed look.
The boy lamely scoffed and shook his head, absently grazing with the back of his fingertips the cheek Jill had so rightfully slapped when it'd been him to spell those very words. He wasn't surprised they had remained impressed on her mind so vividly, like permanently engraved in stone. Chris saddened incredibly. His sadness and regret were so evident that it made Jill reconsider the fun of it all. She trailed off and quitted tittering too.
"You sounded so broken…" Chris murmured. His sorrowful look wiped the remains of her grin away, and it immediately dropped under the weight of his own mistake. "I've never felt so guilty in my whole life, Jill."
"Well, I'm alright now." Jill shrugged, a sympathetic smile softening her features. She yearned no more vendetta than what she'd already got.
Chris's eyes jumped back at hers, quite in disbelief for what he'd just heard. Maybe Rebecca hadn't exaggerated at all when she said Jill's a big girl.
"Can you forgive me?"
Jill mulled it over for a second, then nodded. "Yes, I think I can."
A smile hesitated on Chris's mouth. She'd said she could, not that she'd do it. "Am I forgiven, then?" He questioned, seeking confirmation.
"Yes." Jill said, and accompanied those three letters with a wide nod of her head.
Chris stretched a faint smile, surprisingly not relieved by the received forgiveness as much as he'd expected. Apparently, it's not enough to erase one's guilt. Moreover, he couldn't quite believe it was always so easy for him to get away with it every time he did wrong. Why could Jill and Claire forgive him so easily when it was so hard for him to forgive himself in the first place? What have girls in their hearts to make them so resilient?
Sensing the big boy's uneasiness, Jill took a little step forward and, overcoming an evident hesitation, she reached for his arm and gave it a gentle rub and a squeeze. "It took me a while to overcome it, but a single thing cannot shade all those times you've somehow looked after me while pretending to be Claire, or whatever stranger version of her you were." Jill murmured, her voice reduced to a mere whisper. Chris's look found hers already locked on him. "I haven't forgotten."
"Thanks." Chris lamely uttered.
Suddenly, he saw in Jill's grey eyes, now closer than ever, the same tension he'd probably find in someone ready to bungee jump from a bridge. Excitement, regret, expectation and reconsideration all blended in her irises. Like a bungee-jumper, Jill seemed to take the last breath, quite stocking up oxygen in her lungs as she foresaw the elastic rope to be too long to retract her from the below waters in time to make it out dry. All of a sudden, Chris felt like the clueless boy unable to read inside a girl's mind. If he otherwise did, he'd have heard some well-known voices inciting Jill to just jump and seize the day.
The brunette reached out and, with two bashful but purposeful fingers, she pinched Chris's cigarette and slid it off his hand, getting absolutely no resistance from it. She twisted it, tossed it to shake off the ash and brought it to her lips. She didn't dare look at him while suckling the smoke, but she glanced at his face while blowing it out.
"I believed you didn't smoke." Chris gingerly uttered, eyeing Jill carefully as she took a second puff.
"I don't, indeed." Jill said, coughing a little. "But I just hate the stink of it, so I thought I might as well smell bad too."
"If you asked, I'd have put it off." Chris replied as the girl handed back the cigarette.
"No. I need my breath to stink." Jill cryptically uttered. "Also, if I didn't, I'd have never had either the courage to do… this."
Ready to jump, she raised on her tiptoes and, leaning onward up to the point of non-return, she pressed a kiss on his lips.
Chris hadn't seen it coming. Clueless boy.
They kissed with open eyes, at first, her too scared and him too shocked to dare close them. What had begun as a shy touch of Jill's lips grazing his, quickly grew harder and harder as fast as an exceptional confidence released in the girl.
As though the rope's recoil was about to snatch her back too early, Jill nestled more into Chris's chest, she closed her eyes and reached up to cup his stubbled cheek in her palm. The touch of her hand somehow shook Chris from his wide-eyed stillness. Insomuch that he even started moving his lips along and returned the kiss.
Chris was the last one to let the darkness of his own eyelids grant him a little shelter. He felt like if he closed them, it'd become a real kiss and he was reticent to admit he was kissing someone. But he closed his eyes in the end, as a whole different kind of need dawned in him. He tossed the cigarette away and looped an arm around Jill's waist and the other around her shoulders, drawing her all the way closer. Enveloped in his pine-green embrace, Jill let out a quiet gasp against his lips as she felt his touch strengthen around her but didn't break the kiss. She would've let his lips stop fusing with hers for no damn reason in the whole world. The always in-control girl had let down her walls and taken her chances at last. If only Jill had kept her eyes open! She'd have surely noticed the dark frown on Chris's forehead, poor thing.
It was Chris's first "legal" kiss in he couldn't even remember how long now, still, it all had the acrid taste of error. Her lips were all over his and one couldn't say his weren't all over hers as well. Nevertheless, in spite of the fullness of their touch, Chris couldn't help but succumb to the emptiness left by what was lacking.
No matter how hard he tried or kissed or how tight he held Jill against his body, Chris simply couldn't feel any bliss sparkling within him, not that he wasn't desperately struggling to arouse it anyhow – the passionate way he was returning the kiss betrayed his desperation pretty well.
The more Jill explored his mouth with hers, the bigger grew Claire's presence – or rather the absence – in that union. In his mind. In his arms.
The comparison was inevitable.
Where were the blissful rush of pleasure, the numbing sensation, the leaping heartbeats he always had when kissing Claire? He searched and searched hard for them but, in the end, that kiss was as enticing as… ugh, kissing Piers. And Chris hated it, because it wasn't Piers, it was a beautiful girl! He'd always liked kissing beautiful girls, above everything else. He just despised himself as now, apparently, any beautiful girl wasn't enough for him, since it wouldn't be Claire.
He was kissing Jill so hard in the hope it would just disclose to his eyes that there were, indeed, other fish in the sea, like Claire claimed. Against any hoped-for prediction, it rather confirmed him the opposite.
There were no fish for him. And he was no fisherman. He was a shipwrecked boy in a lifeless sea of despair and unrequited love.
Once it was clear not only that he'd not get anything he sought for but also that the kiss was even painful to him, Chris slowly broke it. He let her lips peel off his, shiny for the sleek humidity that had formed in the kiss as its last remaining memory. He watched Jill as she came down to Earth and returned with the soles of her feet on the ground and something in him shattered at her genuine smile.
His strong hand, pressed against the curve of the girl's back, didn't move, since Chris himself was unable to move for the tempest in his brain, unwilling to release the handhold he clung to and then drown. He was still holding her against his torso, just like she was still cradling in his chest.
Chris swallowed hard and, before Jill went for another ride on his lips, as those sparkles in her eyes threatened, he spoke in hushed tones, as if he feared anyone but the girl in his arms could hear him. "Don't tell Claire." He gruffly gasped.
Now, maybe Jill was still too numbed or too astounded by her own boldness or, maybe, she totally misinterpreted the flickering in Chris's whisper, anyway she wholly missed the real meaning of his plea. So, she just chortled and peeled her hand off his chest, to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear again.
"Who do you think talked me into it?" Jill chuckled, biting her lower lip, certain her words would reassure him.
The white around Chris's hazelnut irises suddenly widened. "Claire?! Did Claire suggest you come and kiss me?"
"No, she just suggested I found the balls to… make a move on you 'cause you…" Jill's confidence, that so far had been such a loyal and precious ally, began its retreat back into the shelter of her boundary walls and left her alone by the front line. Jill peeled off his chest and took a little step back, suddenly the intimacy of such a position feeling too awkward.
"I see." Chris hastened and forced a faintest grin between his cheeks.
Jill shook her head in a self-blaming manner. "I knew I shouldn't have listened to them."
It took him a couple of seconds before Chris figured out who that "them" was referred to. No surprise Rebecca was involved. He didn't even need confirmation on that. Who else could it ever be if not "Claire and Rebecca: phenomenal duo"? Those two conspirators! That one backstabber!
Anyway, now, Jill's dejected tone was what worried him the most. Her downcast look, the way she clenched her jaw it all struck him hard. Had he just used her again – to his own benefit this time? Why couldn't he just not be an asshole when it came to Jill Valentine? What had the girl done to deserve such a miserable regard?
Under the oppression of such new wave of guilt, Chris drew Jill back into his hug. A looser one, less compromising but not less warm.
"It's alright, Jill." Chris murmured as he squeezed her against his chest.
Jill was more disoriented than ever.
She needed him to speak his mind, but she feared she didn't want him to. That kiss had been so mind-blowing, so captivating she just couldn't stand to spoil the memory of it with the hard truth. Unsure about anything by then, she let him comfortably try and rub the uneasiness off her. Hesitantly, she loosely draped her arms around his waist and returned the hug, trying to force herself to believe she'd just misunderstood his shock. Maybe he simply didn't like that his sister meddled in his private affairs.
Or maybe he was just as emotionally retarded as herself.
Anyway, she couldn't help but note that every damn one of their kisses was followed by too-much-brotherly hugs. Every one tasting like a late beg for forgiveness.
"About those two tickets…" Jill muttered as soon as the brief hug loosened to an end. "I can easily save one for you." She proposed, too shy to openly invite him to go to the concert with her and, consequently, ask him out, too brave to just let the chance slip off her hands.
Too smart not to try his sincerity.
With an ability that impressed him, Chris dodged that subtle invitation with a technique he'd learnt from Jill herself. Sarcasm. Plus his own talent on playing it dumb. "Are you tryna monetise your gift and skim it off?"
"Maybe." Jill giggled.
"I have the power to snitch on you with the girls, now." Chris taunted, grinning widely.
Jill's face hardened immediately. She pierced him with her grey eyes, addressing her pointed look with surgical precision, enough to make him swallow hard again as his grin slowly faded. "Me too." She replied low but harsh, remindful of his plea.
He'd been too naïve to believe that Jill wouldn't notice his attempt not to answer her and simply go with it. Chris let his arms slid off her body, while struggling to keep an amused face, unwilling to let her know how hard she'd hit the target.
"Let's go back in, shall we?" Chris said, nodding at the green door.
As they crossed the plaza and made their way back to Moon's Donuts, Chris glanced up, past the wide staircase, as if the answers to his worries lurked somewhere downtown, maybe written in the eye-catching neon lights, blinking there just for him to see. His attention was caught by the upper-case exclamation on Toy Uncle's yellow façade. "Everything you want!".
A lure, a promise, an incitement.
A reminder that the object of one's desire is obtainable and fulfilment achievable.
Everything you want.
Chris knew where to find everything he wanted. It was just not in Jill's arms.
Nor in any other's but his sister's.
Part 5 – Walking on a Wire
The restroom's door cracking open startled her.
In a jolt of fear, Claire whirled around to face the sudden source of noise.
"Holy fuck!" Claire gasped, pressing a damp hand on her cleavage. Undoubtedly too jumpy for the situation, the girl cursed at whoever had so loudly broken into the ladies' restroom. Imagine her surprise when she saw none less than her brother shut the door and the bar's hubbub behind himself! "Damn, you scared the shit out of me!"
A slight nod of Chris's head and all his apology was delivered. In the bare second the boy swiftly took in the layout of the small room, Claire wondered why ever was he even standing there. They had been attending the place since they were children, it was so unlikely that Chris had mistaken the restrooms, so wh-w… what the hell was he doing there?!
"What are you doing here?" Claire asked, dumbfounded, as she whirled back around again to pull a few paper towels out of the dispenser.
Purposefully stomping towards his sister, Chris hunched forward and swiftly glanced below the doors of the only three bathroom stalls to check they were unoccupied.
Still propped against the washbasin, busy wiping her hands dry, Claire looked quickly at him through the mirror. Judging by the hard frown corrugating Chris's forehead, her hopes he hadn't showed up just to resume the jealousy scene of earlier before dropped dramatically. He had that "we gotta talk" face on and nothing suggested otherwise. For that night, she'd had enough of drama – and plenty of his drama – but, by the time she foresaw her night out being screwed, it was too late to bye-bye and walk away.
Claire didn't need to look at the mirror again to know Chris darkly stood right behind her. Just as he took the last step, she twisted her bust towards his imponent frame to warn him she'd to go. Downcast frown, Chris reached on, bypassed her gaze and snatched the drenched paper towel off her hands to one-handedly throw it aside. Utterly ignoring her mewl of irritation, he grabbed her by the wrist and pushed her into one of the stalls, following in tow and locking them in.
Claire let him do without breathing a single word throughout, although to be suddenly confined in such a narrow space with another person summoned a big deal of protests in her. Complaints she hadn't the time to express though, since Chris abruptly turned and casted his silencing glare onto her.
"You told Jill to kiss me!" He roared.
Oh. Uh… yeah. What's the opposite of jealousy again?
"No. Listen, I…"
Chris's eye twitched. "She told me. You can spare your lies!"
"I didn't tell her to kiss you, Chris!" Claire said in her defence. In a point of fact, it'd been Rebecca to remark the you-should-totally-kiss-him-once-and-for-all thing until exhaustion, but there was no use of telling it now: it would've only prolonged a talk that had already tired her. Anyway, Claire ought to make it clear she had nothing to do with Jill kissing her brother! It was all Rebecca's doing – although Claire had heartily sided her – so Chris was picking on the wrong girl. He and his darkly knitted brows ought better to fuck off somewhere else! Truth be told though... "I just encouraged her not to hold back."
Impossibly wide-eyed, Chris made a funny sound of incredulity, like air whistling through the squeezed opening of an inflated balloon, and slammed an open palm onto his forehead. "WHY?! Why on fucking Earth, Claire?!"
"She's got a crush on you, you know it."
"I do!" Chris barked, exasperated harder than ever. "That's exactly why you shouldn't have! For fuck's sake!" He quite shouted in the end, maybe less loud than the bulging veins in his throat and temples let presume, but he struggled to keep control. For a moment Claire feared he'd all but turn into some sort of lycanthrope and fucking assault her throat. The fleeting hint of fear that shadowed her eyes induced him a little self-restraint. "Why did you tell her so?"
Claire frowned and rolled her eyes. The mere idea of having a fight right there was enough to bore her to death. She'd do about everything to just let that discussion die and go back to the party, where everyone was having fun – like she ought to do, too – but her brother had other intentions that included no fun-tonight. He wouldn't have set her free until she'd understood the consequences of her actions – and, certainly, not until his bloodshot eyes returned to the normal white of a calm person.
"Just give her a chance. I'm not asking much." She sighed.
Chris exhaled a ridiculing chuckle and theatrically shook his head. "This is so ridiculous! Do you even listen to yourself while speaking?"
"I just wanted to help you make up with Jill." Claire shrugged.
"Jesus Christ, Claire! I already fucked up with her twice!" Chris yelled, fanning two angry fingers at her face. "I don't need you to give me other chances to do it again!"
"You can't have fucked up that much tonight. Just relax." Claire dismissed it, eyerolling.
Chris was about to object but bit his tongue just in time not to reveal the way he'd fucked up this time – basically like in that freaky drinking game, but worse. He grunted and looked away. The last thing he wanted was Claire to know he'd kissed Jill like a complete idiot would in cases of such. Claire took advantage of his silence to try coaxing him.
"Listen, Chris, you gotta move on someday, I th-"
Causing his sister to wince, Chris bolted forward and slammed his open palms against the cool tiles, right above Claire's shoulders, and caged her in the narrow space between his arms, his body, the wall and his glare. "You don't decide whether I move on or not." He gruffly sputtered, hardly pushing words through his gritted teeth. "That's up to me and me only!"
Pricked by his sudden impetus, Claire pierced him with her sapphire stare and snarled in return. "Well, to me, it's like you were moving on out there!"
The lips Chris's rage had so tightly clenched immediately loosened, plastering an aghast look onto his face as he stared at Claire open-mouthed. The anger of accusation flaring up his face was substituted by the freezing humiliation of being the accused one. His hazelnut eyes carefully inspected her blue ones for any denial of what that sentence of hers implied, but he found none.
Claire had seen him kissing Jill.
There was no escape from that.
As his face grew hot in shame, Chris's gaze dropped and averted.
The image of himself holding Jill against his body, the memory of his lips so ravenous on hers, their heads so damn close, the overall halo of intimacy, all resurrected to torment him: Claire had seen all that passion. Yet she couldn't imagine how hollow that same passion had been – just like he couldn't guess the moment his sister had sneaked out Moon's Donuts and caught him and Jill getting intimate. The only certain thing was that she'd watched him do with another girl what he'd done with her so many times.
For the life of him, Chris regretted having even waved at Jill in the first place.
Chris couldn't help but wonder what had crossed Claire's mind as she saw him kiss another girl. He wasn't gullible enough to believe she'd found it anyhow unpleasant. Especially not after Claire confirmed she was one of the masterminds behind it. But she must've felt something. The suspect the answer was satisfaction truly embittered him. Regardless, the priority now was to make it clear that she was wrong, since the harshness underlying her snarl suggested she believed to have a point. Chris felt so uncomfortable with it. He couldn't stand the thought his girl believed him to be so easily into other girls.
"That's the point." He muttered, raising his gaze back into hers, slowly, as though every inch of its ascent was too painful; and unsteadily, as if he feared to look into her eyes and read whatsoever insinuation. "I wasn't moving on."
Claire seemed to understand, more than he imagined. She knew how to tell when he was sincere and when he was a liar. Shifting lightly onwards between his arms – still firmly planted against the wall – Claire reached up and caressed his cheek, Chris's eyes shutting closed right away. "Maybe you're not moving on tonight, but you will, Chris." She encouraged.
The big guy didn't reopen his eyes, now more than ever certain there was nothing good to read into Claire's eyes in that specific moment but tedious pity.
"Since when are you an expert of love?" Chris blurted and regretted every single letter of it as quick as her hand left his stubbled cheek, insulted. And regret was what his eyes conveyed reopening up, timidly, admitting that it was his grief talking, that he wouldn't sound so surly but he was fighting an unequal battle, where he was a man armed only of his love and madness, called to fight like a whatever hopeless Don Quixote against unconcerned windmills. And that he begged for sympathy. "Sorry."
"You better be." Claire said, bitter. Headshaking, she sighed, and her voice got a tone of genuine concern. "Damn, what's wrong with you tonight?! Always on the edge…"
"I can't move on." Chris whined. "I tried. Out there, I did try, believe me. And I tried at home, all these past days." He looked so soft, so helpless as he spoke, like he'd been truly fighting the hardest of battles and he'd failed miserably. "I just can't get you out of… me."
"That's why you should totally give Jill a chance." Claire said. "Getting her in can help you get me out."
Claire spoke softly, certain her words would have the hoped-for effect on her brother and convince him to, at least, take the first tiny step in the right direction. Instead, Chris shielded himself back from that new blow behind his closed eyes and swallowed hard, eyebrows quirked as if in pain or something. He took a shaky breath and his heavy head collapsed onto his own arm. To Claire, he suddenly looked like a crucified penitent, too hurt, sick and overwhelmed to keep his head up. Chris whimpered into his bicep. Just a bit. Just that little Claire's hand let him before pulling his head up again, to give his cheek another fondling stroke.
"Hey…" she cooed.
Chris cleared his throat and murmured, downcast, with all the strength he could muster to overcome the bulky lump in his throat, and spoke with a broken voice. "Do you have any idea how fucking much it hurts to be pushed into someone else's arms by the one you love?"
The raw honesty in his words hit both of them harder than a truck and made their hearts bleed more.
Something inside Claire shattered.
She'd taken great pains to coax Jill into forgiveness, help her open her eyes and heart and overcome their misunderstandings, in the belief it was the best way to pursue her brother's well-being. Now, instead, his sincerity seemed to speak straight to her soul and announce it'd unmasked her real intentions – something concealed even to herself – throwing her in a state of utter confusion and self-doubt. Claire wondered whether, even if only a little, all her eagerness to set up a meeting for them two, was just her selfish way to get her guilty conscience cleared. If Chris found another girl to distract himself from his heartaches, she'd not feel guilty anymore for having lured him into that sinful tragedy. Her overall well-being would've immediately benefitted. Anxiety, guilt, stomach aches, insomnia, even her stupid neurotic tics, it all would disappear and set her free! Free to forget how fond of his body she was.
But her intentions, whatever they were now, proved wrongful. She'd only hurt him because, at the end of the day, she couldn't help but be the unexperienced little girl, who knows nothing about love and its pains.
"I don't." Claire muttered in surrender. She leaned onward and placed an apologetic little peck onto his cheek. "But I know I want you to be alright above everything else."
She did, truly.
"I can't be alright if it's not you and me." Chris bemoaned, exposing himself shamelessly.
Claire sighed. How many times were they bound to have that same conversation over and over again?
Chris peeled his hands off the wall, steamy handprints left to evaporate, and gently grabbed her shoulders, his humid warmth seeping through the fabric. "I want you, Claire. I want to be your man." He crooned, soft, lovingly, almost begging. One hand lowered onto her waist, caressed the curve above her hips then moved on her lower back to draw her closer until their abdomens stuck together. "Because I love you like a mad man and I don't care about anyone else being mine but you."
He racked his fingers through her hair, sleeking her dangling ponytail with slow gestures. Chris caressed her neck and quite sensed under his fingertips the shivers running down her spine. He drank every ounce of gasping breath she bathed him with. Chris plunged his leering brown eyes into hers, his look soft but rich of his raw sensuality. "Get back together with me, baby." He purred.
Claire's heartbeat rose to a maddening rate and her cheeks burned as blood flooded them. Baby. How long hadn't she heard that word come out his mouth? How long hadn't he been so close, so hot to her? She swallowed hard and nibbled her lower lip. His brown eyes magnetised hers, much like his well-built body did. Claire felt all the might of his attractiveness wrap her into its coils and squeeze her closer like a tiny mouse to a snake's mouth.
Chris cupped her face and gave her cheekbone a stroke with the pad of his thumb, hooking the other fingers under the jawline to angle her face upward. He could see a flush of indecision, doubt and lust grow in her and he could read it all over her face. Just like Claire could read desire, love and charm on his. Although he wasn't totally aware of it, Chris now did appeal to the ascendancy he had on her and tried to induce her to change her mind about themselves. Every good resolution he'd made days ago, back into the storehouse or in the garage, was now giving way to his need for her. Every break-up agreement was broken up. He couldn't go on that track anymore. The price to pay was too high. The sacrifice too painful and unbearable. Chris usually was a young man of his word, his name itself is synonymous with reliability, but just not this time. This time he was ready to go back on his word for the sake of himself, his love and happiness.
"You are my happiness, baby." He susurrated in a husky voice, inhaling every waft of her shaky breath. "Let me be yours."
Claire had never felt like that ever before: flattered, turned on and heartbroken at once.
Her eyes filled up with tears. Because she'd missed him so hard, in a way she was reluctant to admit. Because she'd been cherishing every night the memory of him in her bed and choking in the cold absence of him in her days. Because she'd sighed his name to an empty bedroom in the dead of many nights, when she couldn't grope his body to satiate her need. Because his croon had liquefied every clot of resistance still in her and it now bled through. Because she'd felt a sting of… whatever when she'd seen him kissing Jill with such an abandon she'd not expected from him – not so fast – and it stung so hard she had to walk it off up to the restroom right away to get some silent stillness to deaden the flush of… whatever-it-was quaking inside her.
Her eyes filled up in tears because she realised she was screwed and wanted him so madly. So inexplicably – even for her.
Could habit be so strong? Could it be something else? Addiction perhaps? Could it be she was just the other possessive sibling? Could it be degenerated love had taken a hold of her too in the end? Could it be she was just a capricious little girl?
Could it be she was just as fucked up as him?
Two warm fingertips tapped on her lower eyelid and carefully wiped away the falling teardrops before they'd spill and roll down her cheek.
"I love you but don't you screw your make-up on me." Chris softly spoke. "I ain't worth it."
Claire didn't restrain a little wet chuckle and a few tears escaped as her smile squeezed her eyes. Chris immediately tapped them away too. His fingertips indulged a little on her lips before returning to caress her nape, patiently. It was a matter of seconds now, he knew it. The patina of tender attentiveness carefully covered the malice behind his actions and words, and Claire, oblivious, sank into it.
"Oh, you!" The girl faintly smiled and slightly shook her head.
Chris murmured a quietest "I love you" as his eyes slowly fell shut and his mouth made its way to hers and together joined into a kiss. His heart skipped a couple of beats and a few more overlapped.
This time it felt complete, right, perfect. Blissful.
Claire let him envelope her in his embrace. She caressed his neck and looped her arms around it, clutching herself to his frame. They quickly became as one. One single body, surrounded by a mist of moans, sighs, smacking-lips wet sounds. They both let out days of frustrating restraint into that kiss. It soon became one of the most desperate and hungry they'd ever shared.
Chris was perfectly aware that his sister was moved by lust and the seeking of pleasure, none of her moans were cries of love, unlike his. Nevertheless, he didn't care. He couldn't even find a reason why to care. Claire was in his arms, the right girl was on his lips. That's all that mattered. The context was meaningless.
His fingers skimmed her thigh, plucked the hem of her black dress upwards so his hand could slither underneath. Chris knew that if he tickled her arousal just a tiny bit, she'd let down the last shreds of reticence and wouldn't say no. He wanted to remind her how it feels to be with him, in a way she'd think about it twice the next time she'd be assaulted by scruples.
Fuck scruples.
It only took him a couple of strokes on the right spot between her thighs to get her to jump onto him and loop her legs around his waist. They couldn't afford a complete intercourse right there, Chris hadn't forgotten they got to be all the way careful. Especially in a public place like a bar's restroom. But arousal can be a double-edged sword. His original aim of simply getting her aroused and leaving her craving for more and thirsting on him so bad she'd assault him in the car on their way home, backfired on him as he himself now struggled to curb his most natural instincts and stop.
Chris pinned Claire to the wall and, ravenous like a starving wolf, he attacked her throat, suckling and softly biting as much skin as his lips could grasp and his teeth could graze. Maybe he hadn't turned into a werewolf in the end as she'd feared earlier before, but Claire couldn't have loved his jaws more. She offered all her tender skin for him to devour.
Plunging even more against the tiled wall, Chris secured her in that tilted position and reached up to grasp the wide neckline of her dress and gracelessly pulled it down until one of her breasts and a shoulder were fully exposed, the fabric so stretched it almost tore up. In a rain of her mewls, he kneaded her tit and played with her hardening nipple. Oh, good heavens! Had he missed her breasts! It seemed and eternity since the last time he'd dipped his ravaging hands into her fleshy tits. Her skin was even smoother than he remembered, her bosom felt maybe a little more turgid and fuller and Chris couldn't help but snigger at himself for having all but forgotten the feeling of it under his palm! Each of his touches was returned by her moans of appreciation. The desperation that imbued Claire's lavishing tongue and lips announced that no, Claire wouldn't say no again.
Neither of them wished to stop.
Chris purred against her ears, greedy, hot. He was going to explode inside his pants but he didn't care as long as Claire kept tumbling down. Each of her mewls, sighs, pants told him that there was a chance. A chance to get her back and get back together.
Claire had been very considerate to put his sake first and wish him to have a real girlfriend. As a brother, Chris appreciated it. As a lover, he found it quite ridiculous. Wasn't what they had real too? The happiness he'd bury her into would be real. The love he'd pour into her days wouldn't be any less real. The irritation in her voice when she accused him earlier was fucking real.
As Chris exceptionally let her suck the tender skin of his neck, he imagined that jealousy he'd spotted in her eyes to soon grow into higher feelings. He poured the excitement such dreamy raving summoned in him into his love-making.
Dragged to the edge of her arousal, Claire crossed her feet on his butt and pressed him closer. While he kept fondling her tit, her chest heaved under his palm as she started rubbing herself onto his hard manhood. She regretted having worn sheer black tights that night as its seam and tightness somehow effected the feeling of him. By sheer coincidence, Chris looped an arm around her thigh and started rubbing her with quick, deft circles of his fingertips.
Claire released a long throaty moan as the friction of him all over her deepened.
Quite like an answer to it, a stranger's loud whistle suddenly thundered from the other side of their stall's door.
The two siblings froze instantly. Every moan, every sigh dying halfway out their mouths.
Someone had entered the restroom.
"My, my… big bitch got lucky!" What presumably was Carlos's voice sneered.
Claire and Chris gasped and stared into each other's eyes, distraught.
They had been caught!
Well, as a matter of fact, they hadn't been caught yet… but the eventuality of it was enough to put them in a state of outright hysteria.
Chocking on his own panic, Chris swallowed hard and nervously fumbled with her dress to cover up her exposed breast again. His panicked fingers had a great deal of trouble to grasp the soft fabric. If that unpredictable freak of his friend ever dared to peer inside he wouldn't have seen him groping his sister's naked tits at least. Not that their position was any less compromising!
Chris had to think something and do it fast.
"You're in the goddamn wrong bathroom, you fuckhead!" Chris sputtered, unable to conceal the fluster in his voice.
"So are you!" Carlos joked. "I got a hot chick here, so I guess I'm in the right place." The sound smack of a kiss resounded along with a girlish giggle.
So Sheva was there too.
Of fucking course.
Tittering like an idiot, Carlos knocked at their door, unaware that he'd just sent a rush of pure paralysis up to the brains of Chris and the mysterious girl with him.
Carlos was a pretty damn freak and Claire expected him to slide his curly head in the wide crack below the door to fucking cheerlead at his pal any time now. In front of Chris's inactivity, a panicked Claire wiggled in his arms in order to get back on her feet and get them out of that scandalous position that no lie could ever justify.
Put me down! Fucking put me down!
Shook by her forceful wiggling, Chris caged her in the steel firmness of his muscles, preventing her to return to an erect position as she evidently wished. He couldn't be one hundred percent sure but if Carlos knew he was in there it could only mean he had recognised his shoes – since it was unlikely that he'd recognised his moans. Anyway, he couldn't let them see Claire's black heels too and run the risk Sheva realised her friend was there doing nasty things with her brother. The thought that they'd been so lucky that Carlos and Sheva entered when they were already necking made him shudder. If otherwise they heard them talk… there wouldn't have been no door able to conceal their crime.
"Woo-hoo!" Carlos whooped at Sheva's direction, listening to the rustles coming from beyond the stall's door. "Things are getting wild in there!"
Those words certainly did no good to Claire's already flustered mind and solely aggravated her attempt to get free from her brother's strong hold. Determined to get her to comply, Chris pressed his lips onto Claire's to shush her and reassure her at once, but she harshly shook her head away. She wanted to get off him immediately. She hit his chest and pushed him back with both hands but Chris seemed unmovable. She didn't surrender until Chris pierced her with his alarmed gaze. His eyes quietly demanded her to collaborate if she wished to get out of that impasse safe. To play along was the only strategy that appeared to have any chance of success.
You're not helping us, Claire!
Once he'd gotten his sister's compliance, Chris cleared his throat and harshly replied, loading his guttural voice with as much annoyance as he could muster. "The fuck you want, Oliveira?"
"Well… fuck, actually." The boy on the other side cackled.
"Then go bone your girl somewhere else!" Chris barked.
"Naaaa… we're staying. Guy's restroom is a shitty dump. If my lady has to catch STDs then let it be by me!" Carlos uttered, while the sound of the next stall's door being thrown open hit the siblings' ears. Occurrence that didn't erase the chance of him peeping at them, not in the least! "We'll be fuck neighbours!" He loudly laughed. "You know, in honour of the good old times with Sherry in th-OUCH!"
Chris had never been gladder Sheva was a possessive girlfriend than in that very moment in which a sound bitch-slap ringed clear.
"The hell is Sherry?!" Sheva squealed and all Carlos's plans quickly crumbled.
As the newly arrived couple started quarrelling in the next stall, Chris presumed it was finally now safe to put Claire down. He gently let her slide back down on her feet. Still flustered, the girl strived to pull herself together, sleeking her dress and pulling its hems back to an acceptable height. Her hands were shaking, her breath as well.
She looked terrified and regretful.
Her blue eyes upcasted under furrowed brows glanced back into his. Basically, Chris mirrored her same expression, only that his carried another burden: self-blame.
Claire let out a shaky sigh and slumped with her back against the wall, exhausted. She needed to catch breath to keep up with the maddening heartrate the fluster had aroused. She breathed like she was sobbing. A tearless, quiet sobbing.
That had been the scariest jumpscare of her life.
The closest call.
Begging for forgiveness with his eyes, Chris put his warm hands on her hips and drew closer to her. Claire tried to sympathetically smile, but she couldn't muster more than a pathetic grimace of compassion that, instead of cheering anyone, only resolved to cast a gloom on the already sad atmosphere.
In such air, they stared into each other's eyes intensely. And they realised.
Their eyes spoke what their voices couldn't.
They couldn't be together.
If not at cost of constant fear of being caught, everywhere, by everyone, forever.
So it was, the end.
In spite of all his hopes, it had to end.
In spite of all her uncertainties.
Chris had been a gullible little idiot if he thought he could oppose fate.
Claire had been a little girl if she thought that temporary pleasure would cancel the rightfulness of her determinations.
Releasing a long sigh, his head collapsed into the crook of Claire's neck. His forehead rested on her clavicle bone as he struggled to take the defeat in his stride. In spite of his closed eyes, he still could see clear the fright that possessed hers. She'd looked at him as if she were about to have a stroke and die in his arms.
What had he been thinking? Did he want to condemn his sister to a life of fear?
He promised to himself, he'd never do anything to see that same look of complete, helpless terror on his sister's face ever again.
Such a vow required a pricy sacrifice, though.
Love is a usurer. An unforgiving usurer.
It loans you heaven, it claims hell back when you've got to pay the bill, leaving you with not even two pennies to rub together.
Love had defrauded him.
It had lured him in its cage and fed him its juicy liquors, and now that the tamed wolf was forced to leave and return to wildlife, Chris didn't want to go.
Once he'd step out the cage, he couldn't go back into it, yet he wouldn't live outside of it. He'd entered as a brother, he'd grown lover into it, he'd exit it as a… a what? What was he then? What kind of monster had he turned into?
The truth is Chris was screwed.
Claire shifted under his weight to shake him off, her only way to communicate she was impatient to run away since her voice wasn't to be heard for no reason. Chris raised his head and nodded, heartbroken.
It was time to get out.
He gestured to his sister to hide behind him as he unlocked the door and peered outside. All clear. He kept the swinging door as Claire fled away, quickly tapping on the tiptoes of her heels to disappear beyond the restroom's door, back into the oblivious hustle of Moon's Donuts. Chris waited just a few seconds, not to make too evident he'd exited right after his sister. He couldn't trust Sheva to keep that piece of gossip for herself. If the rumour that Chris Redfield had been caught mating with someone in the ladies restroom had to spread, then let it steer clear from his sister's name to be brought into it.
Aside from pure strategy, Chris wasn't really willing to return to that joyous, partying, crowded room. He only craved to be left alone. But the mewls and purrs coming from the central stall now that the quarrel seemed resolved, pushed him to leave. His lucky friends deserved the privacy the fate hadn't allowed him on that night.
As he walked past the booth in which Jill's birthday party was still raging, Chris exchanged a glance with Claire.
She could've put aside her pity for themselves and just stretch a smile at him but she didn't. It wouldn't have been fair. They had to face the truth just like they were facing each other now, even if in the distance and only for a short moment.
If there was something Claire desired with her whole self, it was to fulfil his request of getting back together. Hilariously, by losing on all sides, Chris had somehow succeeded in his purpose. He had burnt that subtle layer of forgetfulness she'd started so hardly to build up around her need for him and made her regress back into her crave for sin. For him.
It was the first time Chris had been the one pulling the sex leash since it usually was otherwise.
Claire felt so beaten. That night had only added another chunk of garbage on the pile of crappy things laying between them. Another episode not to talk about but that would arrogantly impose its stinky presence between their silent days of distancing. Another reason to distance.
She also felt robbed of all the few grams of optimism she'd so hardly collected and poured into her underhand manoeuvres of caring friend and sister. That night had just shouted right at her face that her mistake, her lovely, lustful, adored mistake was long to be left behind and there was nothing she could do about it to remedy.
As Chris averted his frown and kept walking, Claire returned to fake a smile to her hollering friends, concealing her innermost thoughts. She hoped she hadn't lost a brother too along with every little progress she'd got. Chris had manipulated her so bad. She wouldn't deny it. Like she didn't deny that his possessiveness had reached new levels of oppressiveness – as a quick glance at Steve's booth reminded her. She hoped this night would teach her brother to let her go and he'd slowly let that sink in. Otherwise, hard times loomed ahead for her. Oh poor girl, she had no idea!
Just like their siblinghood was drudging on borrowed time, Chris walked up to the display counter while the bitter flavour of goodbye grew in him. With every step he took, the pain of the blow he'd just got rose. He needed something to refresh him from… that bash of a night. Anything, it didn't matter what. A drink, another donut, a cigarette, fucking drugs… Anything that granted him a little rest from his sorrow. Also, the counter was the best option giving him an excuse to keep away from the girls' table.
While the big guy cradled himself in those mental cravings for self-harm, the middle-aged Asian clerk on the other side of the counter, approached, with the amiable smile framed in the thin black moustache on his nice round face. "How can I help you?" He asked, adjusting the white paper hat on his bald head.
Chris barely acknowledged his presence, let alone he understood the clerk was talking to him. He only kept staring at the various donuts, completely absentminded, only apparently pondering a choice. He stood still, gloomy, dazed, hardly batting his eyes. Estranged.
The clerk curiously waited a little for that weird guy to give any sign of living existence, curling his moustache in amused waiting. "If you wait just a little more, sir, we'll be serving tomorrow's goods." He joked, eyeing his watch, but he had to surrender when his words hadn't any effect on that young customer.
"Ugh, these crackheads!" The clerk snorted, walking away with an eye roll.
So, Downtown Ally is over but, tell me, do you think it is over even for them? Personally, I utterly doubt it is.
I never thought it would be easy for them and it won't be. But where there's something to fight for there's hope.
Complaint and disclaimer: I know there's no restroom in Moon's Donuts – at least as seen in the Remake. And, honestly guys, I don't understand why! It's a bar! Anyway, let's just pretend there's one (as we did for Jack's Bar).
No fictional tobacco company paid me to be featured in this chapter.
I don't even smoke.
I love my lungs.
(heart)