"So, uh, we're in an agreement here? Not a word about... This to anyone?" The look on Darren's face was serious as he was standing at the doorway of the bathroom, holding his blazer on his arm. "Like, what happens in the bathroom of the Microsoft Theater, stays in the bathroom of the Microsoft Theater, right?"
Chris nodded. "Absolutely."
Darren grabbed the door handle and cracked it open.
"Thank you," Chris said suddenly, still sitting on the floor with a half-empty champagne glass in his right hand.
Darren turned to look at him. "For what?"
"Just... Thank you."
Darren flashed one last crooked smile before opening the door. Chris chuckled lightly as he watched Darren leave the room.
He hadn't wanted to say "Thank you for the sex". It wasn't all he wanted to thank him for. He wanted to thank him for being there for him, for listening to his problems, for helping him. Of course, the sex had been mind blowing, but it still hadn't been the best part of the night, as crazy as it might sound.
He had wanted to say simply "Thank you for everything", but it had seemed a bit too much at the moment. They were both already sobering up, not that they'd even been that drunk.
Fortunately, Darren had given him his phone number, which Chris had already deleted a few months after their last encounter. He couldn't wait to write him a message, something nice to make him feel as good as he was feeling right now.
Chris grabbed his blazer and searched for his cell from the breast pocket. It wasn't there.
He puckered his brows as he got off the floor and went through all the pockets of the blazer several times.
Suddenly he stopped to stare at the jacket he was holding.
"Oh, you have got to be kidding me."
He pictured the dark gray-colored blazer smiling at him, wickedly. He let out a panicked sigh. This couldn't seriously be happening.
After everything that had happened tonight, having to explain to everyone why he had accidentally switched blazers with Darren Criss of all people, was the last thing he needed.
Darren was standing in the lobby, near the main entrance, with his blank stare at the floor.
"Here you are!" he suddenly heard Mia's relieved, eager voice in the distance. "I've been looking everywhere for you."
Darren forced his gaze to hers and faked a smile. "Yeah, I, uh... Took a little detour from the backroom. I really needed some fresh air after all that... Posing."
"Ryan told me you ran out of there before they even ended the shoot. What happened? Is everything okay?" Mia asked, with a genuinely worried look on her face. "And what happened to your jacket?"
Darren knitted his brows as he took a closer look at the blazer he was wearing.
Crap.
"One of the waiters in the backroom spilled some champagne on me," he replied fast, trying his best not to look as panicked as he felt. "I ran into Ricky on my way to the bathroom, and he was kind enough to let me borrow one of his. You know how much he loves to be prepared for situations like that."
Mia let out a soft chuckle. "I should've known something like this would happen."
Darren laughed nervously. "Yeah."
It was the first time he was extremely thankful for Mia's undying blue-eyedness and pure loyalty, which both usually made him feel a bit bad for her. She always wanted to believe in the best in people, no matter how obvious it was that they were lying or only telling a part of the story — the part that didn't make them look like total douche bags. As long as she had some reason to believe in what she wanted to be true, she did.
"Are you two lovebirds ready to leave to the after party?" Edgar shouted, avidly, slamming his hands on Darren's shoulders.
Darren flinched and turned quickly around. Edgar and Penelope started laughing loudly behind him.
"I'm sorry, brother," Edgar said, still giggling uncontrollably. "I didn't mean to startle you."
"We promised Ricky and Jwan we'd meet them at the Vibiana," Penelope explained after managing to calm herself down. "We should probably get going."
"Unless you want to hear them bragging about their limo driver again."
"I felt like Batman," Penelope added, imitating Ricky's voice.
Darren chuckled. "Yeah, let's go. I think we've all had enough of the Microsoft Theater for one night."
Chris leaned toward the sink, staring at himself on the bathroom mirror. At this point, he had two options; 1. Get a taxi ride back home, sober up completely and deal with the phone issue, civilized, the following day. 2. Do everything necessary to get the cell back asap.
Luckily, he really was already feeling much better so he was able to make a carefully measured decision, the right one.
He took the jacket, threw the glasses and the empty champagne bottle to the trashcan and walked out of the bathroom. He sped up his pace, not sure where he was even heading. The hallway seemed never-ending with its indistinct lightning and gloomy vibe.
At the end of the corridor, he found himself in the lobby of the building. There were only a few people left sitting on the benches, waiting for their rides. Chris walked past them, right through the main entrance.
Once he was outside, he stopped. He glanced around the area and then took a few steps closer to the side of the street, sticking his arm out and staring at the approaching vehicles.
When a taxi finally pulled over, Chris rushed to it and sat down on the back seat.
"Good evening," the driver greeted, politely.
"Hey," Chris replied with a little breathless sound in his voice.
"Where'd you like to go?" The driver was a bit short, chubby and somewhere around his fifties. He had a kind smile and a stubble.
"2131 Purdue Avenue, please," Chris said, unable to take his eyes off of the man's bushy, black scruffy moustache. "And, uh... If I fall asleep, don't hesitate to wake me up. I just need to clear my head a little.
The driver smiled friendly. "Yes, sir."
Chris smiled back before he tilted his head to the side. His eyes started to get heavy as he listened to the calm music coming from the radio and the nearly nonexistent sounds of the car. The air conditioning made the car extremely comfy, and just a few miles behind them, he had already fallen asleep.
"Okay, we're here," the driver said after parking the car at the side of the road. He glimpsed at the backseat where Chris was sitting, making a quiet puffing sound with his head still on his shoulder. "Sir?"
Chris twitched awake and righted himself. "Thank you."
He dug up his wallet from the back pocket of his pants and paid for the ride, then getting out of the car. He walked to the house. It was grand and painted white, except for the terrace, which was light gray.
He ringed the doorbell. A few moments later, a light came up in the hallway and the door opened.
"Chris?" A light brown-haired woman, about the same height as him but a little heavier, was standing at the doorway with a surprised look on her face. "What are you doing here? I thought you said you were going to the Emmys."
Chris took a deep breath. "Look, Ash, I'm sorry for showing up unannounced like this in the middle of the night, but I just... I thought that since I promised to come to you about everything in this PW world, I'd might as well start this whole liaison thing tonight."
"PW?" The confusion on Ashley's face grew deeper.
"Please, don't make me say it," Chris sighed.
"Oh, you mean... Post-Will?"
"Seriously? You just had to say it out loud."
"Hey, I'm not the one who just basically quoted Riverdale."
"Fine," Chris chuckled, rolling his eyes playfully. "Can I come in?"
"Of course," Ashley replied with a smile and stepped aside so he could enter the house.
Chris took off his shoes, then walking straight to the kitchen. He grabbed a big glass from the top shelf of a glazed door cabinet and popped open a bottle of red wine. He sat down down to the table and took a large sip of his drink. Ashley, who had followed him to the room, poured herself a glass, then sitting opposite him.
"Why are we drinking?" she asked after a few minutes of silence.
Chris sighed. "I did something stupid."
"Oh, my God. Did you call someone the wrong name? Someone, like, super famous?"
"No, it, uh... It was something much stupider than that."
Ashley looked puzzled. "I'm starting to get a little worried. What did you do?"
Chris closed his eyes and took a long, deep breath. "I, uh... I slept with someone."
"At the Emmy Gala?" Ashley's mouth turned up, as if she could burst into laughter any minute.
"Would you please stop enjoying this so much? I'm in the middle of a crisis."
"I'm sorry," Ash said, trying to prevent herself from chuckling. "Please, continue."
"Well, I... I was feeling a bit sad and... You know, lonely, seeing all those happy couples and hearing those beautiful speeches." Chris sighed. "I'm not proud of it, I'm really not. I think I was just... Jealous."
He sighed again. "So, anyways, I ended up wandering around the place and... I met this guy at the hallway and, well, it just sort of happened."
"You had sex with some random guy at the Emmys? Maybe I should be worried."
"Well, it... It wasn't exactly some random guy," Chris mumbled avoiding eye contact.
"What? Who was it then?"
Chris took a big sip of his drink before he replied, still staring at the white oak kitchen table. "Darren Criss."
"What?" Ashley exclaimed with a shocked expression on her face. "Chris!"
Chris kept his head down; he was too embarrassed to look at her. "I don't know what came over me, I feel terrible."
"He talked about Mia so beautifully today, what the hell happened?"
Chris sniffed. "It's my fault. I never should've agreed to have a drink with him! I mean, all those suffocated feelings from the past... I should've known better. I should've known."
"Wait, he asked you for a drink?"
"Yeah. And then he snitched a bottle of champagne somewhere."
"Oh, my God. I-I can't believe this. He cheated on her fiancée with you!
"Hey, what's that supposed to mean?"
"Well, I just... I never thought he'd be into guys. He never really struck me as a possible gay person."
Chris let out an unintentional giggle, which was over as soon as it had started as Ashley gave him a horribly judgy look.
"Really, Ash? Really?"
Ashley rolled her eyes at him and continued. "Come on, Chris. He was the fantasy of the 20-year-old you!"
"Please, don't remind me of that. I was desperate."
"You have to forget about it, do you hear me? You can never tell anyone what happened. It'd ruin his life, his career! And yours, too. Maybe it was just some drunken decision, which he won't probably even remember tomorrow morning."
"I know, I know. And I totally agree," Chris nodded, finally able to look at his friend. "There's just one little problem."
"What?"
"He has my phone."
Ashley's mouth dropped open. "Please, tell me you're joking."
"I wish I were."
"Oh, God," Ashley muttered shaking her head, incredulous. "So, what's the plan?"
"I think there's only one person who'll be willing to help me and won't find the whole situation too weird," Chris sighed. "Give me your phone."
Ashley raised her other brow, unsure of what was happening, but handed the cell anyway. Chris went through her contact list and then finally selected a number. He took a deep breath before starting a FaceTime call.
Soon, the face of a dark brown-haired woman, who was already lying in bed, appeared on the screen.
"Hey, is everything ok- Chris!" Her tone went from frightened to surprised in one-hundredth of a second.
"Lea, hey. I need a favor."
"What is it? Is everything okay?"
Chris nodded. "Yeah, yeah. I just... I need Darren's phone number."
"Okay... Why are you calling me from Ashley's phone?" Lea's look told him she wasn't gonna believe just any story he'd tell.
"Well, uh, actually... Darren has it."
"Oh? So, I take it that you went to the Emmys after all?" Lea was now totally awake and ready for her daily gossip moment.
"Yeah, I did. It was, umm, a lovely party," Chris mumbled.
"That I believe! So, why does he have your phone? You guys haven't even spoken in years."
"Yeah, it's, uh... It's a funny story, actually," Chris chuckled nervously. "But couldn't you just give me the number? I promise I'll fill you in some day. Or you can just read all about it from my memoir."
"Chris, it's just me! You can tell me anything." Now, Lea looked mainly worried.
Chris sighed. "The number, Lea."
"Fine," she snorted and rolled her eyes. "But you so owe me an explanation, Colfer."