Title: Method Acting Pairing: Jeff/Chip [because their love is real. Have you seen any of Green Screen? They can’t keep their hands off of each other.] Rating: PG-13 for language Summary: Breaking apart, and coming together. Kind of a triple drabble and a half. Notes: hate, hate, hate this. But felt the urge to post something. Enjoy ^_^ Disclaimer: Any similarity between the fictional version of the person portrayed here and the actual person is purely coincidental. This is a work of fiction. This is not an attempt to defame the character of said person on the basis of libel, as the work is FICTIONAL (and NOT an intently false statement created with the express purpose of misleading others about the actual character of said person). It takes them more than three and a half years to get together, and thirty minutes, dozens of teardrops and four beers for them to break apart. Though, to be on the positive side (if there, in fact, is one), those minutes seemed to melt away into the background seamlessly, stretching into eternities and colliding with infinity, making them feel as if every minute was a forever. However, it was hardly enough, and nothing much mattered anymore to either of them. There are words spiraling from his lips, hitting him right in the heart as he falls against the entangled sheets of the bed. Words like “wife” and “mistake”, and a string of sentences that don’t mean anything anymore, because the tears are falling and they blur his vision and take up all the empty space. The space currently occupying the bed as Chip darts out the door. If there was a word to describe the situation perfectly, it’s this. Fuck. Yeah, that’s eloquent. And it’s repeating in his mind as his fingers grab the sheets in his fists, and he bites his tongue until he can taste the coppery blood. A piece of hair falls into his eyes, and it seems useless to push it away. Jeff remembered to just a few minutes ago, when Chip was kissing him softly, eyes sealed tight, and he involuntarily brushed it out of the way for him. A sound disrupted his silent angsting, a door hinge creaked and a void was filled, and the pressure on the opposite side of the bed was clear as he felt arms enclosing around him. “What the--?” “A thousand points to me.” Of course. Method acting. That mother fucker. Jeff grabs a pillow and smacks Chip with it. “You could have told me you were playing.” Chip just smiles and pins him to the bed, shifting his weight so he maneuvers to on top of him, their lips just inches apart. “That takes away all the fun.” [end.]