Over the next few days, Chris adds "taking drugs" to his list of regular activities, along with "exercise," "reading classic literature," and "disappearing from the house for a few hours for activities Marlo doesn't really want to think about."

Marlo makes sure to stay near Chris while Chris is high and does his best not to worry about the amount of drugs that are being taken. It's not like they aren't already dead. 

And then Chris walks in the house one afternoon and says "Marlo, please touch me-- I'm rolling-- I need you to touch me."

He stands up and hugs Chris, holds Chris steady. 

"I've got you — c'mere, do you want to sit down —" 

"No, we should lie down on the bed-- want to touch all of you--"

"Okay. We can do that. C'mon, I've got you." 

Marlo keeps holding Chris once they're lying down, pets Chris's hair. It's not actually any closer than they've been before but it feels — different. 

Chris makes happy little whimpery noises when Marlo touches him.

"You're so good, Marlo, I love you."

He puts a hand on Chris's hair and the other on Chris's back, presses a kiss to Chris's forehead. "You're lovely." 

Chris pats him ineffectually. "You're so beautiful, Marlo, I love you so much."

"You're beautiful too," Marlo says, and holds Chris closer. 

He tugs at Marlo's shirt. "You should have fewer clothes. Nicer to touch your skin."

...Marlo takes his shirt off as best he can without moving away from Chris. 

Chris is not very coordinated and he doesn't want to stop touching Marlo but he eventually manages to take off his shirt, pants, and underwear.

Marlo will help with the shirt and keep holding Chris. "I've got you," he repeats, very softly. 

Chris is staring at him with a look of awe, almost worship. 

"You're so beautiful."

Another kiss to Chris's forehead. His hands are on Chris's back, Chris's side. "I've got you, I'm here." 

He appears to notice that Marlo is wearing pants. 

"Less pants, Marlo, please-- I love you, I want to touch you, I want to feel you--"

"You're high." 

"Wouldn't want to touch you so much if I weren't high-- love you, trust you, you wouldn't do anything I wouldn't like--"

"Okay," in a whisper, "okay, I've got you." 

He takes his pants off and goes back to holding Chris. 

Chris keeps making these happy little sounds he's never made before. He touches Marlo all over his body, his chest and back and neck and hair. Their legs wrap together. Chris rubs up against him, chest against chest and stomach against stomach, like he's trying to figure out how to combine into a single person.

"Love you," he says, and "you're beautiful, so good, best thing in the world, so happy I can touch you."

"You're lovely, I love you," they're so close, "I love being near you," and he holds Chris closer still. 

Chris shifts a bit and Marlo can feel that he's hard.

Chris doesn't seem to be paying much attention to this fact: he's running his hands up and down Marlo's spine and murmuring about how Marlo is the best person Chris has ever met.

Chris is high. Chris is high, and traumatized, and it is entirely possible that none of this means anything and as soon as Chris sobers up they'll go right back to the way they were before. 

Chris is high and traumatized and this might mean nothing in three hours and Chris needs Marlo now. 

He ignores that Chris is hard and keeps petting Chris's hair, keeps rubbing small circles on Chris's back. 

Chris looks at Marlo's face and breaks into tears.