Work Header

whatever you run from you end up chasing

Work Text:



Tyler Chukwuemeka- A second year med student who still works with his boyfriend. 

Christophe Georges- A horror movie director who still works with his ex.

(A small apartment in the middle of moving. Chris’ things are in boxes, Tyler’s are not. Tyler is wearing Chris’ Chicago Bulls sweatshirt and has not yet noticed. Chris is squinting at a laptop on the coffee table.)


Chris: It needs a filter.


Tyler: No, it doesn’t. 


Chris: Who’s the director here? It needs a filter. I want the audience to think they’re looking at Italy in 1963. 


Tyler: Whatever. (He checks his phone.) Pizza is almost here. Can you get it?


Chris: Why do I always have to get it?


Tyler: Because I paid for it. And you’re in my apartment right now.


Chris: It’s our- (He stops and realizes what he’s saying. They are silent, for a moment. Tyler’s phone buzzes.)


Tyler: I’ll get it. (He leaves.)


(Chris continues to mess with the laptop until Tyler comes back. He is out of breath.)


Tyler: It’s raining. You might need to stay here tonight.


Chris: A little water never hurt anybody.


Tyler: It’s going to get worse. You might walk out on the road and get run over ‘cause some drunk dumbass didn’t have his headlights on.


Chris: Then I’ll call an Uber. 


Tyler: Or you could stay here with me for free. 


Chris: Why the fuck are you being so clingy?


Tyler: What, I’m not allowed to worry about you? Am I just supposed to want you dead cause it’s over?


Chris: Quit being full of shit and help me with this scene.


(He and Tyler sit next to each other. As time goes by they melt into aching familiarity, old patterns of nights spent in this exact position where they’d laugh and tease and edit Chris’ dumb pretensious grad projects until the sun came up and Tyler had to go to his 8 a.m. Gross Anatomy lab.


Those nights were warm springtime affairs where they could crack the window open while having sex, cars on the street below overlaid with heavy breathing and Mowtown records. Afterwards, when they lay spent with the sheets pulled back, Tyler could turn to Chris and say he loved him. And Chris would say it back.


Now it is present day, and Tyler has grabbed Chris’s jaw. He is kissing him again. There is the desperation of a drowned man in his actions.) 


Tyler: Pretend for me.


Chris: Pretend what?


Tyler: Hold me. Kiss me. Fuck me. Just don’t leave me.


Chris: You’re the one kicking me out.


Tyler: Because I couldn’t stand to look at you looking at her one more minute. 


Chris: Who?


Tyler: The girl you always talk to. That girl whose snaps you’re always checking. That girl who you like better than me cause she’s pretty and I’m an ugly faggot.


Chris: I don’t think you’re ugly.


Tyler: Then why are your insta likes full of high yella chicks? Am I just your summer fun before you find a girl so your grandma won’t suck her teeth when you go home for Thanksgiving? 


(Chris kisses him back.)


Chris: You are so damn attractive I could fuck you everyday. Remember that Friday I called into work sick so we could have a second round? And then you skipped the choir cookout because I was all that was on your mind? That’s how much I needed you.


Tyler: Needing ain’t the same thing as loving, baby boy.


Chris: Don’t call me that.


Tyler: You’re still my baby boy. (Pause) That’s a Bey song.


Chris: I know that.


Tyler: You don’t like Beyonce.


Chris: No, I don’t.


Tyler: I like Beyoncé. We could’ve had such great sex listening to self-titled.  


Chris: Like the sex we had wasn’t great.


Tyler: It’d be better. I’d ride you if we were listening to Beyoncé. I’d climb in your lap and take your dick down so far you’d scream my-


Chris: Tyler!


Tyler: -name and I’d twist your nipples like you like and you’d kiss me right and then we’d be pressed together like one body. And you’d fuck me until I couldn’t breathe.


Chris: That’s filthy. (He is sporting an obvious erection.)


Tyler: That’s how I felt about you that summer. You know the first time I saw you I got hard? I was sitting in the basement of Alpha Delta Phi when you walked in and on God I immediately chubbed up.


Chris: We’re past that. Are you going to finish the film or are you going to keep talking about what happened years ago?


Tyler: What happened years ago is right in front of us, right now. You and me and your penis.


Chris: Leave my dick out of this.


Tyler: Let me take care of you. (He unzips Chris’s shorts.) Let me do this. 


(Like unwrapping a glass ornament in tissue paper Tyler pulls out Chris’ dick. His eyes close as his mouth wraps around it. Chris cradles the back of his head, feeling the spot in Tyler’s throat where it bulges. The laptop screen goes dark. Outside there’s a police siren. Chris notices the sweatshirt, sniffs it to find out that it still smells of him. He is suddenly angry and grabs the back of Tyler’s neck, fucking up into his throat. Tyler does not protest. Tyler goes limp and looks up at Chris with cow brown eyes. 


This is like the scene at which Chris knew it was over- him and Tyler fucking again, not because they wanted to but because they could and him putting his hand around Tyler’s throat. Tyler had offered no resistance, instead staring at Chris with lovesick eyes as he tried to breathe. At that moment Chris knew it would never work, because he didn’t have the gravity to become someone’s stars and moon.)


Chris: You’d do anything for me, wouldn’t you?


Tyler: (Pulls his head up.) Of course, baby boy.


Chris: So once I cum will you let me leave?


Tyler: I can’t do that.


Chris: But you’d do anything for me. You love me.


Tyler: Please don’t.


Chris: You love me. 


(Tyler covers his ears.)


Tyler: I’m not listening to you anymore.


(A brief struggle ensues. Chris, shorter but stronger, is able to pin Tyler’s hands behind his back whilst simultaneously fucking his mouth again. It makes Tyler gag, but Chris persists. He is breathing heavily. A bead of sweat trickles from his hairline down.)


Chris: I fucking hate you so much sometimes.  


(Tyler is still giving him head. His eyes are watering, or maybe he’s crying. Despite the hate rolling off of him in waves he hasn’t yet tried to bite Chris’ dick, or even made him uncomfortable. His mouth is warm and yielding as always. Chris reaches down and feels Tyler’s erection. He knows the shape well, second only to his own, and he can rub his thumb right on the frenulum without having to look.)


Chris: That girl I’m talking to asked me on a date a week ago. That’s why we were at the diner together when you came in with Jarvis and Howard. I knew you’d hate her because she loves artsy French dramas and wearing actual clothing and being called my good slut.


(Tyler is ignoring him.)


Chris: I fucked her so good she couldn’t walk, right in the foyer of her apartment. And you know what it reminded me of? The time you sucked me off in the backseat of Dani’s car while we were still at her mom’s Christmas party because you needed it so bad. And I wondered why I missed that so fucking much. 


(Tyler is choking himself on Chris’ cock. There is nothing making him stay.)


Chris: She gave me road head the other day. 


Chris: You did that, once.


Chris: I was so scared I was going to get caught but you gave me that grin and I let you do it, even while I was constantly looking to the side and wondering if anybody else knew what I had. The sunroof was open so I could hear people talking when we came to that place on the highway where everything slows down and that’s when I came. Knowing that what they had was nothing compared to what I did.


(He pulls Tyler off his dick. He wants to cum on him. This is mine, he wants to say. This is someone whose heart and soul are caught in my hands. Tyler’s tongue is curled to catch his cum. Chris sighs and shoots.)


Tyler: You got it in my eye, asshole.


Chris: Too bad. Want me to do you now?


Tyler: Nah. 


(He leans back onto Chris’ chest, rubbing the heel of his palm on his dick. He’s close, judging by the way his neck is exposed. Chris sinks his teeth into the meaty junction between shoulder and neck. Exhaustion from nights of staying up is hitting them both, and Tyler is frustrated as he tries to make himself cum faster.)


Chris: I’m going to help you.


Tyler: Don’t touch me.


Chris: I don’t have to touch you to make you cum. I can talk you into it.


Tyler: No you can’t.


Chris: You’re going to cum for me. Everybody does, even the prudish ones. You know that girl I was talking about earlier? Her name’s Julie Tatum. 


Tyler: Liar. 


Chris: Julie Tatum, head of the Sisters in Christ choir, sucked my dick while I was going 80 mph down the interstate. Not that it was good. She says I’m the first guy she’s ever fucked. 


Tyler: And you’re fucking her over me?


Chris: She isn’t you. That’s the appeal. 


Tyler: Why? What does she have that I don’t? 


Chris: Being Julia Tatum. 


(Tyler cries out, and Chris takes the opportunity to strike. He wraps his hand around Tyler’s throat the way it was weeks ago when he knew it wouldn’t last. This time he gives into that urge, squeezing the life out of him. A sudden rage surges through his veins. He wants to hurt. He wants to maim. 


Tyler mouths ‘I love you’ and cums across his hand. The barest rasp of breath passes between his lips. Chris makes him lick his own jizz up.) 


Tyler: After this is all over… can we still hang?


Chris: We aren’t friends. 


(They separate. Chris leaves in silence. Tyler buries his face into the neck of his hoodie and stares at the ceiling without seeing. It’s dawn now. The light is cold. Outside, thousands of people are moving about their lives ignorant of  heartbreak.)


Sometimes I turn around and catch the smell of you and I cannot go on I cannot fucking go on without expressing this terrible so fucking awful physical aching fucking longing I have for you. And I cannot believe that I can feel this for you and you feel nothing. Do you feel nothing? -4:48 Psychosis